In Love With The Moonlight
by Kelly123
Summary: Ellie Nash doesn't own a swimsuit. Craig Manning doesn't seem to mind. In the midst of a revamp, please excuse my dust!
1. Secrets

_So I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this story... doesn't that sound reassuring? I've been toying with a rough draft of this idea in my head since last summer when I was waiting for the season premiere and getting all daydreaming in the pool. The thing is, the storyline has always been in more of a one-shot mindset, but since I realize that all I ever seem to write are one-shots, I'm thinking maybe I should go out on a limb and challenge myself with an actual chapter story. Yeah, we'll see how that one plays out._

_BTW, this is set in the summer before Ellie's senior year._

_Disclaimer: So what if I said it was mine? What the hell would happen? But it isn't, even the title belongs to the band Lovedrug and their song spiders, which by the way is really good._

_Here we go folks, read and review if you love me. Or if you don't. You don't really know me, so I guess love is a bit much to ask..._

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_**"Searching on the wire for a wire,**_

_**for a peace of mind,**_

_**like the spiders in the corners that are never there,**_

_**to the one,**_

_**to the magic sun, **_

_**you're not that bright now,**_

_**but you will be someday soon, **_

_**and you will fall in love with the moonlight."**_

I don't own a swimsuit.

Haven't. For years. As a matter of fact, I think my last swimsuit had a ruffles on the bottoms, and I haven't been a "ruffles" kind of girl since, well, ever actually.

Abnormal? (not the ruffles part of course, the not-owning-a-swimsuit part) Hmm, I guess you could say that, but I just might take it as a compliment in comparison to some of the other pleasantries I've been called. You'd' be surprised at how unoriginal spoiled little upper-middleclass Canadian teenagers can be. Not that I listen to what other people call me of course! After all, I'm Ellie fucking Nash!

Fooled?

Me neither, I've always thought Alex pulled off the tough broad bravado much better than I.

But when you think about it, it's really not such a shocking confession. Come on, wouldn't you choke on your (grande soy, nonfat, decaff, utterly flavorless) latte if you spotted _me_ browsing through the racks in one of those ridiculously overpriced, trendy boutiques Paige and Hazel frequent? Oh yeah, me, swaying my shapeless hips in time to the thumping club music . Me, making my way back to the dressing rooms so I can scrunch my nose and scrutinize the reflected image of my pale, scarred skin, barely covered by a few scraps of flamboyant material under the brutal glare of fluorescent lighting. God, the mental image alone is enough to make me want to grab the nearest sharp object and start hacking away.

Oops, scratch that. You probably got all quiet and averted your gaze when I mentioned my "issue," sorry for any temporary discomfort my plummeting sense of self-worth may have caused you.

Anyway, back to the conversation at hand. The sickness that is swimsuit season has officially struck our province, sending the girls of Degrassi into a dieting, tanning, and shopping tizzy. All girls sans one. My only summer swimwear purchase thus far has been a new parasol. I burn easily, get over it.

But even if I were to find something I could deem suitable of wearing out for all those fun filled summer afternoons at the beach, playing volleyball and engaging in splash wars with the cheerleaders, there's still the fact that...I don't want to spend my summer afternoons at the beach playing volleyball and engaging in splash wars with the cheerleaders at the beach. I may be slowly but surely assimilating into the Degrassi mainstream, (Marco sure as hell hasn't let my gradual shift in clothing go unnoticed) but I'm still the girl who sat off in the sand by herself while Paige and her gang had themselves a grand old time those years ago at the coast.

Thank God the trip my mental health group was supposed to take out there was cancelled. One mention of the word "bikini" and Princess Anorexia was slumped over in her chair bawling her eyes out. I hid a smile while everyone else rushed over to shower her with sugary words of comfort and assure her that the excursion wasn't necessary.

Everyone except Craig and I. He caught my gaze across the room with a sly smirk of his own, and I rolled my eyes sarcastically. He quirked an eyebrow and I... I remembered that despite our mutual friendships with the now absent Ashley and Marco, the two of us weren't technically friends and rarely spoke to each other. Turning my attention to my rubber bands, I contemplated the boy I sat across from. Strange, how we had both spent so much of our time with the same people but not really with each other. A few games of euchre, a "heartfelt" conversation about guitar strings and his girlfriend, and countless evenings crowded in a circle of chairs pretending not to notice each others presence just about summed up our relationship, if you would even call it that. But whatever, just because my two best friends and my boyfriend completely and utterly abandoned me this summer doesn't mean that I'm that desperate for companionship. Yeah...

And again, here I go drifting away yet again from the subject! Swimsuits I don't do, beach-time Barbie I am not, but just between you and I, I sort of have this secret love affair with water.

Your see, back at our old house, (in my old town, in my old life) we had a pool, a great, big, glorious pool, and as soon as the weather turned warm enough I spent hours on end in that thing. Not in the daytime though. Therein lies the twist. While everyone else was squealing and diving away I was holed up inside, listening to music or reading a book and ignoring the "wicked witch, are you afraid you'll melt?" jeers occasionally thrown my way. But the second nighttime fell, it was just me and the water under the moonlight, which is just how I like it to this day. (or would it be to this night? Oh you get the picture...)

Have you ever been swimming at night? I don't mean drinking beer in a steamy hot tub with a bunch of horny teenagers, but actually swimming. Oh God, it's so...serene. It's just you and this cool expanse of wetness pressing against your skin, with the slightly cooler summer night breeze wafting gently through the trees beyond you. You're surrounded by silence that is marred only by the gentle background hum of crickets and the soft slapping of waves made by you alone. All around you, the underwater pool lights reflect eerie shadows into the dark that shiver continually with the shifting of the water, shadows that you catch out of the corner of your eye and mistake for movement in the blackness you cannot clearly discern. Everything just takes on this tragically romantic quality that makes you want to close your eyes and drift on your back forever. Or at least, it does to me.

But here in Degrassi, I don't have a pool.

But here in Degrassi, I do have a secret.

And I don't mean those secrets that everyone and their mother knows by now, like the whole drunk-ass mom thing, or the cover-up for the gay boyfriend thing, or the emo-chick cutting thing, but a new one. I've got a little secret getaway. It's a place where I have no right to be, a place no one knows I escape to, and a place where I can forget about everything that's weighing on me, even if it is only for a stolen hours or so.

It's a place I can go to swim.

I found it in this rich neighborhood I sometimes cut through on my way home from group. The homes there are all ridiculously over-the-top, but one particular gigantic mansion always drew my attention because of a certain ominous presence and perpetual silence it possessed. I passed by it several times before my journalistic curiosity got the best of me and I did a little investigating. Surrepticiously creeping over the manicured lawns and past an unlocked gate, I discovered the source of my secret summer bliss. Inside the high fence an absolutely lovely pool lay perfectly hidden behind the home's immense shelter, empty and beckoning for me to come disturb its glassy surface. Which I did, gladly. Best of all, the owners are on some long, outlandishly expensive vacation and have no idea of my frequent visits. How do I know? Call it my roving reporter instinct, but I went up to an equally gigantic neighboring home, pretending I had to drop off something the residents next door had ordered from my school fundraiser which had been delayed in delivery. Thanks God for ignorant rich people, because now I have a safe place to swim for almost the whole summer.

It's really going to suck when the owners get back from the Greeks Isles, or Tuscany, or Brazil or wherever the hell they are, because I seriously won't know what to do with myself. When I'm not in the water my options consist of either sitting at home with my struggling-to-remain-sober mother, or sitting in group, or sitting and trying to get in touch with my long-gone best friends. Who, by the way, can hardly ever manage to scrape together enough time to share a few words with their Canada-stranded pal. God forbid they stop having fun long enough to answer their phones.

Calm down Elle, think of the water, think of the moonlight...

I'm itching to get out of my clothes right now, to strip down to my boring black underwear and submerge myself completely in a stranger's pool. To let the water roll over me and wash away everything I don't want to deal with like blissful temporary amnesia. But I can't. Not now at least, as I sit inside the circle and stare longingly out a window by my chair at the sun fading away in the evening sky. Soon, I assure myself, as someone to my left drones on, soon I'll be there.

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_Ehh, i'm not sure. What do you think?_


	2. Discoveries

_I actually got an idea for the plot of this story! It's kinda weird, and I'm slightly nervous, but I'm also happy, are you happy for me? Well, at least I think it's really exciting, because I was terrified that inspiration would never strike me and this fic would just drone without any real purpose. Who knows though, that still could be the case...but let's hope not. I've got some plans that I hope you will like, which will build up throughout the chapters. I hope this turns out how I want it to!_

_Disclaimer: The characters and the title and Degrassi and all that stuff isn't mine._

_Set in the summer before Ellie's senior year._

_Here we go folks, read and review!_

* * *

It took every ounce of restraint I had in me not to leap out of my chair and sprint all the way to the pool after group finished up this evening. Oh, how I longed to push through my fellow teenage sicko's and scramble through the door, not stopping until I had reached my glorious destination for a bit of breaking and entering. I hadn't gone in almost two weeks, hadn't been back since...

Somehow (and let me assure you it wasn't at all easy) I managed to control myself.

The seat I had chosen today had been by a window (not an accident on my part) and I had spent most of the session with my gaze riveted on the outdoors for the onset of nightfall, fingers drumming out anxious rhythms against my thighs as I waited for the decree of conclusion to be made. I can't discount how much group has helped me get through my "stuff" but today, all I wanted was for everyone to quit yammering on about their own problems and let us get the hell out of there. At the moment I coudln't care less that Cora's father never once made the time to attend her soccer games when she was in grade two, and now she can't allow herself to be emotionally available to men. Hmmm, yeah, so sad. Getting kinda dusky out there...

When at last I heard those marvelous words of dismissal, I painted on a tight smile and squeezed my way to the front of the procession as it headed out into the parking lot. Hands were placed gently on my shoulders, but I slid away from the friendly touch. Voices attempted to call me back, but determined feet kept me straight on my path as I sang out cheerful excuses over my shoulder. "Sorry, can't stay and chat!" "Gotta go, mom needs me home to help out with dinner!" "Maybe next week! See you soon!" Grin, shrug, wave. Repeat as often as necessary while walking away. Whatever you do, don't stop walking.

Striding forward with a purpose, I increased the distance between the familiar crowd and me as quickly as I calculated to be possible without looking suspicious. When I came to the fork in my path that would lead me either to where I was supposed to be or where I wanted to be, I quickly detoured into the neighborhood I had no business being in. Soon the maze of similarly named street signs swallowed me up, and my pace quickened. My pulse quickened with it.

I kept on track by using the houses (oh lets not be coy, mansions really) I had grown accustomed to as markers, checking each one off mentally once I passed. As they all in turn fell behind me, the nervous anticipation grew ever stronger in the pit of my stomach.

The monstrous Mediterranean-style villa. Getting closer.

The behemoth brick abode. Not much further.

The colossal colonial. Just one more...so close... almost there...

And then I was running.

Madly I dashed across the emerald green grass, zigzagging around the impeccable hedges leading towards the back, and flinging open the heavy gate to let myself in. Screw stealth, it was late and half the neighborhood was away in the Caribbean, so I threw caution into the wind. Bursting over the threshold, I hopped on each foot clumsily in turn while I pulled off my shoes and socks and threw them haphazardly to the side. Jeans were kicked behind me in a hurry as I advanced towards the water, still moving forward while I shimmied the denim down around my hips. Once I neared the edge, my hands gripped the edge of my tee-shirt, swiftly pulling it over my head and leaving my arms extended after the flinging the garment away to form a hasty dive as I plunged myself greedily into the depths.

The water was cold, the little warmth it absorbed from the summer sun long since vanished now that the rays were gone. The change was a welcome one though, the nighttime air clinging to me heavily during my spring with an almost palatable humidity, and the sudden contrast of the chilly depths raced through my body with a deliciously sharp tingle. I know some people prefer to adjust gradually to the water, starting off standing on the shallow-end steps and slowly working their way in deeper until they are used to the feel of the water around them. Not me though. I've always plunged headfirst into the depths, even back when I was doing my plunging in a ruffled little swuimsuit.

If only I had enough confidence to take on life in the same way I do the water.

I skimmed across the bottom of the pool skillfully while my body grew accustomed to the change in temperature and drank up the moisture it had so mournfully been deprived of. Determined not to come up for breath until I had reached the opposite end, it was with an audible gasp that I broke the surface in the shallows, chest heaving as oxygen rushed into my deflated lungs, filling them with the life-sustaining force I had so willingly denied them. And I would continue to deny them, over and over, until I was so exhausted I could barely make my way back home, but at that moment the prospect of leaving seemed hours away. Kneeling in the water, I closed my eyes. I took each breath deeply, trying to savor the moment...and then almost instantly my silent reverie evaporated.

I felt it, that unmistakable, chilling feeling on the back of your neck that someone is watching you. The water was cold, but my blood suddenly ran colder.

Slowly I turned. My heartbeat began to race wildly with the terrible fear of what I might find upon completing my rotation, the sickening sense of deja vou building in me as my movement stilled. I had kept my eyes low, but now as I raised them slowly, I found myself locked into stare with...

Craig?

Manning?

What the hell?

Instantaneously, my whole attitude changed. With an uninhibited feeling of rage, I drew myself up to full height, eyes smoldering and holding his gaze while defiantly placing my hands on my hips.

My bare, wet, practically naked hips, I suddenly remembered upon making contact with the region.

Of course, my first instinct was to collapse down onto my knees and submerse my underwear-clad body into the dark water, attempting with a pathetic futility to cover the expanse of exposed skin with quivering arms while blushing madly under the moonlight. But of course, being Ellie Fucking Nash, I couldn't.

So instead, I jutted out my chin as though I always encountered my long-gone best friend's on-again, off-again boyfriend in my sopping wet unmentionables. Nope, nothing out of the ordinary for me her, no siree. I narrowed my eyes and straightened my spine, challenging him wordlessly to poke fun at the situation. 'Come on, you fucking charmer,' I tried to convey telepathically, 'just you come on and try me.' Opening my mouth in disgust, I spat out icily,

"What the HELL are you doing here Manning?"

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_SOOO, what do you think now?_


	3. Confrontations

_La te da tee da,oh how delighted a wee bit of positive reinforement makes me! The reviews thus far have been lovely, with details as to why y'all like the story and intelligent praise, rather than the inevitable "SoOoO GoOd, UpDaTe SoOn!" Oh crap, watch me get a review of that sort between the time that I am writing this and the time it is actually posted. Ehh, sorry if I have offended you, here, I even have another chapter to appease you. Hmm, so yeah, some craig/ellie interaction this time, as I am attempting to try my hand at explaining the crellie friendship that seemed to have suddenly blossomed at the start of this past season. I would've loved it if the writers allowed us to watch how it grew to be onscreen, but sigh, such was not the case._

_Disclaimer: not mine._

_Here we go, hope you like it, even just a little bit!_

* * *

His eyes widened slightly with surprise, though whether that was due to the fact that Ashley's little sidekick actually looked like a girl underneath all those black clothes, or my rather scorching little outburst I'm not quite certain. I squirmed uncomfortably as his gaze left my own, slowly traveling from my shoulders, to my chest, to my stomach and my thighs and then back up again. You would think he would at least make some effort to disguise the fact that he was totally checking out his girlfriend's best friend in her underwear, but of course, this was the _Craig Manning_ we were talking about. He could, (and had) get away with pretty much anything because he was gorgeous, and he knew it. Not that _I_ think he is gorgeous or anything of course...I'm just expressing the opinion of most Degrassi females. Please, I'm not that typical.

His eyes gleamed with mirth when they finally made their way back up to my face, their brown depths containing no evidence of shame of any sort. Furiously, I fought a losing battle against the blush burning its way up my neck and turning my face a shade to match my hair. Desperately I tried to exude some of that badass confidence I was supposedly known for. Was it working? Yeah, I was a bit too flustered to really make a coherrent analysis of that. He still hadn't uttered a sound since sneaking up on me in my vulnerable and unaware state, so I drew up my spine and shot those inquiring words at him once more.

"If you could manage to tear your eyes away from my tits Manning, you would realize that I just asked you a question. What the HELL are you doing here?"

I thought I had thrown a good stern dose of 'or else' to my tone, and hell, I had even used the magic word 'tits,' but still the boy remained silent. Now, I love peace and quiet and all, but whatever shit he was trying to pull at the moment was about to become my undoing. I clutched at my hips a little tighter, squeezing the pale flesh until I left red, finger-shaped welts over the protruding bones as a substitute for compasses or rubber bands. Just then, when I thought I could scream if he didn't do _something_ but just stand there, he moved. With his smile never fading and gaze never shifting from my own, he reached down and began to undo to buckle of his belt, the sound of the metal clinking against the ground resonating through the utter stillness of the nighttime air as his faded blue jeans puddled around his feet. I tried to swallow, but my throat was bone-dry.

"I'm sorry Manning, but do I look like a horny Filipino to you? I know it's dark out here and all, but my hair is RED, if you couldn't tell. Put your damn pants back on and tell me what you're doing here."

Finally he made a noise, a low, deep chuckle that caught me off guard with its light-heartedness. Or maybe what caught me off guard was the fact that he was now pulling the worn grey tee-shirt that was stretched around his lean frame over his head and advancing towards me, polka-dotted boxers gleaming under the moonlight. Not that I was affected by his almost-naked body in any way of course, I barely even noticed the way his his toned, tanned...yeah, didn't even give it a second glance.

"What do you think you're doing?" I said in a voice slightly higher than I intended, gradually letting the water cover me as I backed up slightly with each word, "You have no rig-"

But I had forgotten about the sharp drop-off from the shallow to deep end, a special addition from the manufacturer so that the deep end would be cavernous enough for even the tallest of divers to leap safely into. In taking a step blindly backwards, I felt my foot drop out from underneath me as my head jerked beneath the surface. Caught off guard, I was too stunned for a second to move, remaining underwater in a dreamlike daze.

Then there was a splash that I felt rather than heard, and a surge of movement jetted towards me before two strong arms gripped my middle and hauled me upwards. Craig held me onto me tightly, treading water effortlessly and smiling that same damn paradoxical, sweetly-cocky smile with his face mere inches apart from my own.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. You were saying?"

With all my strength I reared back and pushed myself out of his grasp. Of course, we were in deeper water now, and I immediately dipped below the surface once more in my unbalance. But this time I wasn't about to let him rescue me, and before he had a chance to turn in my direction I kicked hard out behind me, propelling myself forwards. I zoomed past him, once again heading for the shallow end. But upon surfacing for air, I was infuriated to find him just a few feet behind me, obviously having taken cue from my beeline.

"Asshole!" I screamed slamming both fists into the water and showering him heavily, "You have no right to be here, you-"

His hand clamped tightly over my mouth and with his body once again uncomfortably close to mine, he spoke in an amused whisper,

"Will you please take care to lower your voice when we are trespassing in the middle of the night in the swimming pool of some totally loaded, probably not too understanding, absolute stranger? I don't think the neighborhood would be entirely pleased with your little uninvited excursions. And no, you're right, I don't have any right to be here, but then again missy, neither do you I believe. I followed you tonight because I was curious to see where the hell you've been in such a hurry to get to after group this past month. I must admit though, I expected a drug deal, or illegal prostitution, or something else slightly more dangerous, but here you've gone and pleasantly surprised me Nash. Now, can I trust you to be a good little girl and keep quiet if I let you go?"

Narrowing my eyes bitterly, I jerked my head away and mumbled a few choice adjectives for him under my breath. He had a point, but I was still pissed at him. Lamely, I countered,

"I was here first."

Again, he laughed, that reassuring chuckle that soon had me smiling in spite of myself. I let out a giggle, and promptly realized how ridiculous I must have just sounded. The corners of my lips turning upwards of their own accord, I lowered my hands to trace loose patterns in the water with my fingertips, occupying my gaze with those rather than meeting his eyes. Gradually, the laughter tapered off, and he regarded me seriously for the first time tonight.

"But honestly though, does my being here really bother you? Because if it does, I can leave. God knows that after living with Joey I understand about needing your own space and all, and I certainly wouldn't want to be the jerk that just marches in and takes over. It's just that since Marco and Ash left...well, I'm sure you know how it is."

And the thing was, I did. He wasn't such a bad guy, I guess, and looking back on the series of events that transpired tonight, I suppose they were all actually pretty comical. Considering what he had just said, I stopped my hands and looked up with what Marco would have called a mischievous glint in my eyes.

"It's cool I guess, you can stay if you want. It's not like I won the place or anything. But there's just one condition."

"What?" he inquired, a note of skepticism evident in his voice.

"Payback for freaking me out so badly is going to be such a bitch!" and in a second I had lunged for him, the both of us immediately forgetting our lack of proper clothing as we wrestled fiercely for dominance trying to dunk one another. And in the midst of the fury of our splashing, fighting, and choking back too-loud squeals, I absentmindedly pushed away the apprehension that was gathering in the back of my mind away. We had at least another month...

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_Heh? What's that you said about my story?_


	4. Signals

_I'm giddy to write this story. I don't know why. For some reason I just feel the urge to sit down and write and write and write, but I figure I better keep you in suspense with a little bit of time between updates (that and plus there's that teensy issue of attending summer term and going to work, grr). Maybe I can even extract a couple more reviews by doing so. Not that I'm "begging" for reviews or anything. Random. Umm yeah, what else? Nope, I think that's about it for now._

_Disclaimer: not mine, I don't even own a witty comment to put here instead._

_(Oh, and I am not in any way making fun of people with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Ellie just really isn't in the mood to listen to what he was to say, but she doesn't personally have anything against the kid or his disorder at all.)_

_Here it is, sort of a filler chapter, hope that's okay!_

* * *

The following week at group, I again found myself unable to concentrate.

Some new guy, Don or Ron or Hubert or whatever, was currently in the process of spilling his poor little guts about the horrors of living with his mental health problem, OCD. He was bravely attempting to bare his tortured soul to a roomful of strangers, choking up on his every forth or fifth word and staring fixedly at the worn maroon carpet in the circle's center while he blinked back tears with heartbreaking vulnerability.

I should have been listening with an open mind and a soft heart, admiring him for the breathtaking display of courage he had shown on his first visit which I still found myself lacking in after months of sessions.

I should have smiled encouragingly at him when he found the nerve to tear his gaze away from the floor and look up at all of us, eyes red and lower lip trembling as he spoke of how it was the death of his grandmother that lead to him seek help. How he knew it was a dying wish of hers for him to get better.

I shouldn't have been fighting desperately to swallow down the eruption of giggles struggling against the back of my throat, threatening forcibly to burst forth from my mouth and embarrass the hell out of little whatshisface up there. Not able to hold himself in any longer, he had begun to cry silently. His tears were slowly building in abundance and intensity right along with my barely-sustained laughter, and at the exact moment that he chose to break down with a shaky, mournful wail, I _definitely _shouldn't have accidentally released a loud and utterly inappropriate guffaw.

But the thing is, I did.

Everyone froze in their chairs,the group leader shooting me a look that dripped of horror and disappointment. Huey or Howard or Travis or whatever the hell his name was, swiftly turned scarlet with shame, again ducking his head away from sympathetic expressions of the circle. Well, some of them were wearing expressions of sympathy, the others were staring in disbelief at me and my ability to be such an absolutely heartless bitch. Shrugging my shoulders apologetically, I mouthed a wide-eyed "I'm **so **sorry" and scooted back in my chair, waiting nervously for the attention to turn away from me and return to...that kid, you know, the blonde, skinny, crying one.

But truly, it wasn't my fault.

Craig shouldn't have been distracting me during Mr. obsessive-compulsive's tearful confession, therefore my embarrassing blunder had been due to no fault of my own and entirely all of his doing.

His face shouldn't have been contorting with a strained effort while his hands fluttered and twisted, fingers straightening out and snapping back as he attempted in vain to convey a message of some sort to me from his seat across the room.

The boy had gone mental.

He he he, don't roll your eyes at me, you know you smiled at my superbly dry Nash humor too. Get it, a kid in a support group for teens having mental health issues going mental? Geez, some people have no sense of humor...

Speaking of which, one of those aforementioned people was our group leader, Phillip (A/N: don't think they have ever specifically identified the leader of Craig and Ellie's group, so I am making one up. I hate the name Phillip. Phillip was the sweaty kid in my first grade class.) He shook his head sorrowfully at me one last time, and then went to attend to the crying kid. For the life of me, I just can't seem to recall his name, Tristan, maybe? Anyway as soon as his back was turned, (Phillip's, not little boy no-name's) I issued a fierce whisper to Craig.

"So what, now your epileptic too? What the hell are you doing over there? Geez, no wonder Ash ran off to England, you're a freaking nut job!"

Now granted, a week ago, Craig probably would have gotten all huffy and puffy like a little girl if someone had dared to poke fun of his "problems" and his runaway girlfriend, especially within the same insult. A couple late-night swimming expeditions together though, and we've kind of established this snarky little back and forth based upon cutting each other down as viciously as possible. Quite invigorating, actually.

Dropping his hands, he gave me a look of contempt before hissing back, "They're called hand signals, you dumbfuck. If we are going to have a secret rendezvous, we need a secret language!"

"Don't call me a dumbfuck, you dumbfuck, have some respect for a lady!"

"Well maybe when I'm talking to a lady I'll show her some respect, but right now, I'm just talking to you!"

"Well at least I'm not waving my hands around like some-"

"Ellie!" Phillip's humorless tone scolded, cutting me off before I let loose with some rather colorful language, "Please, could you try and show a little courtesy to Jacob!"

Jacob? Who, Jacob Black? Oh yeah wait, the OCD kid. The one whose tears I had blatantly laughed at. I was just opening my mouth to formulate an apology, when Craig, whom Phillip had his back to, gave the group leader a hand signal that even _I_ understood. Prompting me to let loose with yet another offensive guffaw, drawing even more appalled stares and causing Phillip to turn purple with what I'm sure was the unexpressed longing to kick my sorry ass out of group once and for all. Of course, he couldn't possibly follow through with it, since doing so could possibly lead to a horrible relapse on my part and then who would be to blame if I up and killed myself? But still, just to be on the safe side, I decided not to make eye contact with Craig for the duration of the session.

Oh, that silly, silly boy.

Staring intently at Phillip and pretending to listen, I killed the time until I was underwater by pondering the radical shift in my rapport with Mr. Craig Manning. It's really quite odd how in a matter of days that strange boy and I have become fast friends, our escapades at the pool quickly showing us how easy we both find it to talk to one another, about both absolutely everything and nothing in particular. Music, obviously, we clicked on immediately, but beyond that I can just talk to him about totally random, ridiculous things. Not that I am a particularly ridiculous kind of girl, but it's nice to have someone with whom I can share totally spacey banter. That sort of stuff would haved bored the hell out of Ashley or Marco, and especially Sean. Stupid, heartbreaking, irresponsible Sean. Just between us, sometimes I find myself secretly wishing a shark shallows his big stupid head while he's out in the freaking water on his precious damned beach.

Not that I'm bitter or anything, of course.

Anyway, I suppose to some people it must have seemed inevitable that we would get along, what with our similar taste in friends and all, but for some reason Craig has always got on my nerves before now. He was cocky, adulterous, sex-crazed, and far too pretty for his own good. I was more than happy to hate him along with Ashley when she made up her mind to cut him out of her life for half a second, but when she decided to give him a second try my feelings of misgivings still lingered.

I'd bet Phillip would love to analyze the hell out of this, pulling up my troubles at home with my mother and my father's absence and all that other itchy stuff, but in the end he would have only ended up echoing what Alex said that night playing euchre at my house. I guess I kind of have trouble with trusting people. Bah, but doesn't everyone to some degree? What could I really do about it anyway? For some reason though, I have no problem trusting Craig with my pool secret, trivial as it may seem. Not that I really had a choice in the matter though, what with the arrogant bitch basically crash-landing headfirst into my private little world. But grudgingly I must admit, it's become a better place because of him.

In a totally platonic, buddy-pal-chum kind of way of course. You've really got a sick mind, you know that? Yeah, me falling for Manning, like that could ever happen.

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_Hmm, foreshadowing, anyone?_


	5. Insults

_I seriously hate summer. I know, Iknow, I think I am one of the only people in the world to hold this gripey opinion, but I really do dislike the season. It's dreadfully blistering where I live, and my schedule is just as hectic now with summer term as it is during the regular spring and fall terms, so it's not like I get any kind of a break. So sorry if my updates are fewer and further between, my brain is quite frankly fried at the moment. I'm feeling grumpy and sorry for myself, so be sure to smack my bitch-ass and knock me out of my wallowing before I drown in my own self-pity. Eh, that sounds utterly wretched and middle school-y, I'm really exaggerating. Big ole baby..._

_Disclaimer: I do own a pool, but not the own Ellie and Craig like to swim in._

_You know the drill, here it is._

* * *

Oh dear God, we would have some serious explaining to do if our friends could see us right now.

Of course, those kids are the absolute furthest thing in the world from my mind at the moment, but if I was actually making the effort to consider their reactions, they wouldn't be pretty. Craig and I would be in some deep shit if we were exposed now, particularly where two of them are concerned.

Marco would be completely shell-shocked. His eyes would go as wide as saucers, his mouth would gape open, and with a big, dramatic, gay flourish, he would collapse into a stylish heap on the ground. In a daze, he would begin to mutter incoherently in Italian, crossing himself a few times for good measure. But when he came back around, he would smirk and wink and say he knew that this had been coming for quite some time.

Ashley though...ugh, Ashley would be none too pleased. A deep, jealous shade of green would quickly spread across her skin and great waves of steam would roll forth from out of her ears before she would suddenly spontaneously combust with a pop and a sizzle. Afterwards her smoking ashes would scatter themselves across the ground, slowly taking the shape of letters as they spelled out a mournful, bitter song about heartbreak and betrayal in her eulogy.

They would both be completely off and jumping to ridiculous conclusions, but I mean come on, what would you do if you saw Craig Manning and Ellie Nash stripping frantically, tearing off their clothes with a frenzied fervor in the middle of the night?

Please bear in mind that the key word in that sentence is THEIR clothes, as in our own, not each other's. I mean, it's not as if we were going to swim fully dressed, right?

I have to admit though, it was a bit strange showing up at the pool that first day after our unconventional little meeting. He was already in the water, and in the shadows I couldn't tell whether he was wearing trunks or boxers (not that for guys there was really much difference anyway). For me though, there was still the whole issue of not owning a swimsuit. I had hesitated a bit while dressing that day, wondering just how skanky spending time with my best friend's boyfriend in my underwear would have to rate on the Manny-scale. I'm guessing pretty high. On the other hand though, if I went out and actually bought a swimsuit, wouldn't that be making just a bit too much of an effort? After all, he's the one who crashed in on me, and so I shouldn't have to make any alterations just because of his presence.

I wasn't even sure that he would be there the second night, it's not like we sat down and worked out a schedule after our first swim. We just kind of fought and acted like ten-year-olds and he yelled a "see you next time" in my general direction when he was leaving. It shouldn't have made any difference to me whether he showed up or not, but for some reason it did. My mind kept wandering that day, the skyline commanding my gaze even more than usual, which is a whole hell of a lot. There was a nervous apprehension building in the pit of my stomach as I tried to read and do a bit of writing to pass the time on a non-group day, and I tried to brush it off as anxiety about losing my secret escape. But as much as I hate to admit it, a strange sense of relief washed over me when I walked in to find him there that night.

Hey, I'm only human. Even Ellie gets lonely sometimes, and that's obviously all it was.

Obviously.

Anyway, fast-forward to the two of us at the pool after that disruptive group session and our bizarre competition of who can get almost naked first. I don't know how exactly it all started, because I'm not a competitive person in the least. There was the talent show though, that was probably the only time I've ever really cared about beating someone, but that's only because I was supporting Ashley in her, "Craig Manning deserves chemical castration" tirade. Weird though, how the only two occurrences of my rare competitive side both involve this boy. But you know, coincidences do happen. It's nothing to give a second thought to.

What is worth giving second thought to is the fact that I might actually beat Craig to the water this time. Here I already am down to a shirt and my panties and he is still lagging behind me, bare-chested and struggling with his shoelaces. If I hadn't been giddy with the adrenaline rush of possible triumph I would have caught on to the strangeness of the situation, since he could have easily kicked his shoes off without untying them as I had, but I was and I didn't. But then I was a few steps away from the water's edge and he was upon me, taking full advantage of the distance between us to get a running start and launch a surprise attack. In a second he had scooped me up into his arms, bridal style, and suddenly we were both leaping off the ground and crashing into the water as one tangled mess of arms and legs.

I don't like surprises. I don't like to be helpless. I don't like to be tricked. But for some reason this time it was okay. This time I laughed, trying helplessly to conceal a smile behind narrowed eyes and clenched fists once we surfaced. I shoved him forcefully, though not quite with the force I knew would take to drive us apart. Still, he stood unmoving against my efforts and grinned at me deviously, capturing my wrists when I attempted to land blows against him for a second time.

"Craig let go of me. Now. Seriously, I don't want to have to hurt you."

"Aww Elle," he murmured, using his grip to draw me in closer to him, "You know you just don't have it in you to hurt someone as devastatingly handsome as me." A hand snaked its way from around my wrists to across my back. "But I, on the other hand," another arm joined the first one wound around my ribcage, "have no trouble," His grip tightened and our middles were touching," hurting the beautiful."

Wait, did he just...

And then he ducked, jerking the both of us underwater in an instant and filing my nose with a stinging invasion of water. He held us there, staring at me intently and releasing one arm from around me to bring in front of our faces. I was shocked, obviously, what with our sudden change of scenery and the lack of oxygen burning painfully in my lungs and the force of the water burning painfully up my nose and it took a second for my dazed brain to comprehend what the hell he was doing. Then I got it.

Those fucking hand signals.

Calling him an unfriendly name, (which ended up being a more of a garbled and bubbly expulsion,) I shot to the surface and waited impatiently for him to follow. When it was clear that he was going to continue being an ass and show off his superb talents at holding his breath underwater, I decided to take things into my own hands.

Literally.

I plunged a hand into the depths and quickly made contact with his newly cropped head of brown hair. With an unforgiving yank I hauled him out of the water, bringing the boy to stand in front of me. Grimacing with pain and pouting slightly, his signal-giving hands migrated up north and began to massage his assaulted scalp.

"Ow!"

"Aww, come on you big baby, Ash said you liked it rough."

"Oh yeah? Well so does you Mom!"

"Wow." I cocked an eyebrow, " Did you really just throw a 'your Mom' comeback at me? Manning, if we are going to hang out then you are seriously going to have to put upgrade your insults from a grade-school level of mockery. I simply can't be associated with someone who utters that kind of unintelligent babble."

He squinted his eyes slyly at me and crossed him arms over his chest.

"Well your Mom likes my unintelligent babble. As a matter of fact, I was making her babble unintelligently for hours last night. Pretty much all I could make out was 'Oh Craig, Oh Craig, Oh baby, OH GOD!' But you can't blame her, I do tend to have that kind of effect on women."

Seriously. Eww.

"Are you trying to bathe in my projectile vomit Craig? Because you are only about two words away from being covered in the stuff."

"Aww, well that certainly would suck Elle. Wherever would I find a place to wash it off?"He said with a sheepish grin, dropping his confrontational stance. Uncrossing his arms, he reached over to brush a strand of hair out of my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. His hands were warm, despite their wetness, and tough with the calluses earned from years of devoted guitar playing. My lips parted slightly of their own accord, and his eyes twinkled with an innocent sincerity when he spoke.

"Your hair is curly when it's wet. How come you never wear it like this to school?"

Wordlessly, I shrugged and stared down at the water, fingers twisting nervously at the tousled curls of his question.

"You should, you know. I like it."

Why was a feverish blush burning its way up my neck? Why had my heart started thumping uncontrollably the instant his hand brushed against my forehead? Why the hell was this boy I had never given a shit about before suddenly making me feel so...so unsettled?

The answers to these questions scared me, so I rolled my eyes and changed the subject abruptly, pushing the growing unease as deep down as I possibly could. Without much luck.

* * *

_He He, So, what do YOU think is the reason Ellie is blushing?_


	6. Thunderstorms

_Hi, hello, how are you all? Hope everyone is enjoying their summer (which, have I mentioned, I'm not particularly fond of?) and their vacations and their breaks and seasonal flings and all such loveliness. I know this story doesn't seem to be going anywhere, but I actually do have a plot for it and hopefully it will begin to make itself known within this chapter. I have actually been trying to make subtle hints throughout, so maybe when it's over you will reread it and say, "oh, that's what she meant! What a CrAzY girl that kelly is!" Well now, enough of my random babbling, and on with the show. Or story. You know what I mean._

_Disclaimer: Uh-uh._

_Read, enjoy, review...in that exact order._

* * *

Big, fat fucking drops of rain, plopping out of the sky and spattering against my window.

Big rolling crashes of thunder, exploding in the distance and carrying all the way over to me in my bedroom.

Big flashes of lighting, illuminating the blackness and completely ruling out any possibility of getting out and going swimming.

Stupid gosh-darned weather.

My nose is pressed up against the water-streaked glass of my bedroom window and I am staring out into the pitch-blackness of the night sky. Presently, I am feeling A: quite sorry for myself, B: disgusted with myself for feeling quite so sorry for myself, and C: like I really have to pee, but am much too busy moping to get up and go to the bathroom. I know that one of these problems is quite easily solved, but I don't want to and I can't help it, it's all that water.

Stupid, fucking water.

You see, I really do like the rain, as totally emo and cliché as that may seem. Truly, I do, but the thing is that Craig and I always go swimming on Tuesdays after group lets out and on Thursdays when Joey takes Angie out for a late-night father-daughter movie. It's an unspoken tradition of ours that for some reason I have come to look forward to with nervous anticipation throughout the week. But here it is, a Thursday night and I'm cooped up in the Nash residence, surrounded by water, but not the right kind. Water that makes me have to pee, water that won't let me swim, and water that I know the earth desperately needs for things to grow and all that logical shit, but that's not the point. The point is that I hate Mother Nature with the utmost possible abhorrence.

Skank-ass bitch.

Because it's her fault that I am sitting here, inside, with my nose pressed up against the glass, sulking like pre-homosexual Paige Michaelchuck after some pretty boy denied one of her demands. I'm horribly bored of the sight of the four walls of my room, but I'm far too scared to step out of their safety. Downstairs, my mom is scrubbing the guest bathroom to a ridiculous sheen in order to keep her mind off of how badly she wants, needs, has to have some liquor in her system. Given the alternative, I'm happy about it, really... but I also know that if I dare to venture anywhere near her she will enlist me to scrub the toilet with a toothbrush or something equally absurd. Moping sucks, but cleaning is worse. I think I'll stay up here.

But evidentially, Mom has other plans.

"Eleanor!"

I groan like a spoiled toddler, and slump down onto my bed, pulling the rumpled covers up around my chin.

"Noooo!" I plead, dreading what cleaning duties she no doubt had in store for me. She's been in a polishing mood lately, and Pledge is definitely not my friend. Better make up something quick. "I'm too sick mom, I feel horrible."

She either didn't feel any sort of maternal sympathy for me, or saw right through my pitiful faking, because soon I heard footsteps making their way up the staircase to my room.

"Mom, please, no. I'm cramping really, really bad."

The footsteps hesitated, then resumed. This flooded me with a rush of encouragement, and I started up again.

"Ahhh! It hurts so bad! My poor uterus! Would you please go to the store and get some midol and tampons for me?"

The footsteps stopped at my door, and anticipating her entrance, I curled up in a ball and screwed up my face in a painful grimace. The door began to open slowly, and I let out a mournful whine.

"Ooohhh-Craig?"

The brunette boy eyed me cautiously with a look halfway between disgust and bemusement.

"Hey Elle, your mom let me in. She tried to call you, but obviously, you were in way too much agony to respond. "

"Shut up."

"It's okay, you don't have to be ashamed of the natural cycle of you body. Now about those tampons, did you want regular or super?"

A pillow smacked him in the face and honestly, I have no idea where it came from. Oh yeah, behind my head. Oops, sorry accident. Blame it on my hormonal imbalance.

"Seriously Craig, eww. Don't ever talk about my period again, it's revolting. And just so you know, not that it's any of your business of course, but I was faking."

"Yeah, I kinda figured you were making excuses to get out of something after you mom answered the door smelling like bleach and clutching a dirty toothbrush."

I grimaced at the toothbrush comment. That lady is crazy, but better her than I.

"What are you doing at my house anyway Manning? If you hadn't noticed, it's raining today, so no can do on the swimming."

"Aww, come on, the rain's the rain, some air would be good for you!"

"Yep, and so would be getting struck by lightening in the middle of the night while trespassing. I can hear the eulogy now..."

"Do you think of everything in terms of death?"

"Do you think of everything in terms of sex?"

"I didn't say anything at all about sex!"

"Sure...But why would you have gotten all flustered when I asked you about it unless it was true?"

"Think whatever you want to little girl, but I am about to head over to the Dot, and being the true gentleman I am, I though I would ask you to come along. However, if you continue to berate me in such a way I just may have to retract my offer."

"Oh yes, because without Craig Manning my life would have no meaning."

"So that's a no?"

"Give me a second, I have to pee."

His car stunk from the rain, like stale air and moldy carpet, but it was dry and warm and the music was loud so I can't complain. The old sedan wasn't his own, though, just a loan from Joey's lot because of the storm. I made fun of the fact that out of every car in inventory, he for some unknown reason had to make this selection, but he only retorted with a rude comment about my little performance earlier, so we both spent the rest of the ride in comfortable silence just listening to the music and watching the rain. Well, he watched the road too (at least I hope).

The Dot was crowded, as seemingly every kid still in town for the summer had decided to come inside to seek shelter from the onslaught of the rain. Well, that and let's face it, this is Degrassi and it's not as if there is any place else to go. No place except for forbidden pools. Ugh, I don't think I have ever felt such a vengeance for the forces of nature before. We got our drinks, (two coffee's, black,) and chose a table near the back of the place. I took a hesitant sip of from the paper cup, knowing for a fact that it would be too hot and, sure enough, burning my tongue in the process. As usual, my taste buds are now all swollen and I won't be able to enjoy the rest of my cup, but for some reason I never learn and I do it every time. Creature of habit I guess.

"Ridiculous how much I look forward to these nights you know," Craig began, staring absentmindedly out the windows as I continued to take scalding sips, "I got so pissed when I saw that I was raining, that I think Joey was afraid I was having a bipolar episode."

I smiled sweetly, setting down the steaming cup and mentally chiding myself for not letting it cool.

"Aww, come on now Manning, let's not waste time blaming the rain. You know it's really just the pleasure of my company that you enjoy. Why else would you come crawling to my door in the rain?"

"Oh yeah, that's right! I totally forgot the part where I am now obsessed with you! Silly me...hey, I thought you were supposed to have low self-esteem or something? Because you're sounding pretty damn cocky to me right now."

"Shut up, you're the cocky one."

"Am not"

"Are you seriously going to try and start this? No, I am not going to dignify your childishness with a response." I told him, raising my nose in the air haughtily.

Hey Elle," his eyes were gleaming again as he changed the subject, "Your hair is curly."

I blushed. Deep, bright, burning red, from my neck to the tips of my ears. Ear's that were just covered with wisps of burnt orange curls. I'm not sure why I didn't straighten my hair after I got out of the shower this morning, but it certainly wasn't in any way due to Craig's comment a few weeks ago. Ha! Please, I just didn't want to take the time to mess with it is all. Really.

"Don't flatter yourself, my blow-dryer was broken." I snipped. The little voice that was my conscience hissed 'Liar,' at me, but I skillfully ignored it.

"Uh-huh, sure..."

"Manning, wipe that smirk off your face. You had nothing to do with the break-down of my hair drying electronics, I assure you."

"Ellie, let's not kid ourselves. Behind all the sour faces and screamo, you are secretly a girl." He drawled, pointing an accusing finger in my direction.

"Uh oh, you've found me out! How will-"

"Lemme finish here, okay lady? Now, as I was saying, you, Eleanor Nash, are a girl-(insert me scoffing and rolling my eyes)- and unbeknownst to the outside world, you like being complimented just like any girl does. Even if you do try to deflect such words of praise when they are offered in utmost sincerity by dashing young gentlemen, I know that deep down inside you a little redheaded girl is smiling."

Insert awkward pause where he smiles a little bit too widely and I raise my eyebrows.

"Umm, not gonna lie Craig, that was a little creepy."

"Just sayin' you look nice is all."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I think it's time to shut up now you jackass." I hissed at him before grabbing my cup and taking a burning gulp of coffee... but on the inside a little curly headed carrot top was running through sunflowers with a smile on her face.

Oh shit.

* * *

_Hmm...(I left a little meaningless tidbit of something in there for y'all. If you know what it is I will love you forever!)_


	7. Voices

Oops, some of those reviews made me feel like a big tease. I think I kind of mislead y'all with the last sentence of the previous chapter, the one about leaving something in there for the readers to find. It doesn't have anything to do with the plot of the story, and it wasn't a clue as for what is to come or something of that nature. It was just a little bit of a song quote that fit in quite nicely, so I couldn't resist but to throw in. Sorry about the misunderstanding, but still, if anyone recognizes it I would love them. It does blend in rather well with the rest of the story though, if I do say so myself, so I'm not really expecting people to notice it. Yeah, with this installment there is really only one thing I want to accomplish, and I have had the way I want to end this chapter in mind for awhile so there isn't much length or substance to it. I just kind of want to throw something at you and let it sink in before I write the next part. So basically what I am trying to say is that this is going to be relatively short and I am sorry. Geez, you'd think I was trying to make up for a brief chapter by writing a humongous forward! Not the case at all, of course! What else...reviews are so much fun, thank you to everyone who takes the time to write one, because they make me so happy. Especially the original ones. Hmm, dirty, wet dog fluff...I'll take it as a compliment!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

So here it is, a bit of a change of pace for you.

* * *

It's Tuesday night. The rain has long since ceased, and the storm clouds have moved on. The puddles are dry, the heat has resumed, and everything should be back to normal. But it's not. 

I lied to Craig.

I skipped group.

I snuck out.

I went to the pool.

I went to the pool, dragging my feet with every step I took. I went to the pool and I undressed, slowly and unwillingly pulling each piece of clothing off asthough the synthetic fabrics had been woven with leaden threads, dead weight I had voluntarily adorned myself with. I went to the pool and now I'm shaking. I'm shaking and I'm scared, and I'm ashamed and I'm guilt-ridden and I don't fucking want to be here and I don't know why I am here and I'm cold and I'm wet and I'm naked and I have never felt so exposed in my entire life.

And I'm alone.

The water feels like ice despite the stifling summer humidity pooling around me. It is sharp and unwelcoming and for the first time ever I hate it. I hate it with a deep, unadulterated fury because it is what got me into this mess in the first place, but then I stop and the fury redirects itself because I know that that is just an excuse and I hate myself for making excuses for things that are my own fault. Because that's what this is, my own fault. Not the water's fault, or the moonlight's fault, or my mother's faultor his fault, or his family's or his neighbor's or anyone else's motherfucking fault but my own.

I dip below the surface and screw my eyes shut as tightly as I possibly can. I clutch my knees to my chest and hold my breath. Hold, hold, hold it until my lungs are on fire and my head is spinning and I wish with every fiber of my being that I could just stay like this. Stay huddled and protected and in a bubble where no one and nothing can touch me. I try, but soon I cannot take it any longer and reluctantly I come up for air.

Craig regards me warily from his seat at the edge of the pool, his bare legs dangling idly in the water. His shoulders are slumped and his jaw is set. I know I have pissed him off and I can't stand that, can't stand the fact that I have caused him to become unhappy with me.

I question him in a low voice, "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see that you're a liar."

That hurts, searing and heartfelt, but I know I deserve it.

"It's complicated Craig. I'm sorry but you need to go."

"Like fuck I need to go!" his pitch raised slightly and I wince, "I'm not leaving until you explain to me what is going on here. Until you explain why you had to throw a big fit about us not coming out here tonight and then proceed to show up regardless."

"You showed up too."

"That's besides the point, I was worried about you!"

"Lower your voice. I don't need anyone worrying about me. It's pointless and useless and I can take care of myself."

"Oh yeah, you certainly have proven that to be true on many an occasion, haven't you Nash? Tell me now, just how did you get that gash on the inside of your arm?"

Both of our eyes drop instantly to the scar of mine in question, which is barely visible in the dim lighting, but still I wrap my arms around myself possessively to cover it.

"You are no one to judge me Craig. You don't understand and you need to leave."

He sighs, and drops down from off of the edge and into the water, making his way over towards me.

"God Ellie, I'm not trying to judge you, I'm trying to understand you! But then just when I think I am finally beginning to get somewhere, you have to go and pull something like this and leave me totally fucked. I just want to know what the hell is going on."

His hand comes to rest gently on my shoulder, a simple gesture with nothing but friendship behind it, but one that makes my heart pound regardless. Now it's my turn to sigh. I sigh and I look away, and when my gazerejoins his questioning one my eyes are pleading.

"The thing is though, I don't even understand myself. I'm stupid and weird andscrewed up, and all I know is that I hate being like this, and I hate saying this, but I have to say it and I need you to listen to me. Craig, you have to leave."

And then I felt it, that unmistakable, chilling feeling on the back of your neck that someone is watching you. The water was cold, but my blood suddenly ran colder. Craig's grip on my shoulder tightened, and his thumb began to rub small circles on my collar bone, but the sensation did nothing to calm the discomfort I felt. I opened my mouth, but before I could get a word out, I heard him.

His voice slid through the stillness like it always did, slimy and thick and repulsive. The kind of voice that made the hair on your arms rise up and your stomach clench in distrust. The kind of voice that I knew would be coming and that I didn't want Craig to hear. But it was too late now, andthe voice oozed over to us.

"Well now my Ellie, you never told me that you had a boyfriend."

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Reviews certainly would help encourage me to get to the bottom of this thing faster... 


	8. Confessions

Someone got it! Oh yay! I'm sitting here and grinning like an idiot at a glowing computer screen while I write these words, once again delighted by the random typings of a stranger I'll never see or never know but who I love because they read my silly little stories. Yeah, yeah, I know it's simple and silly and I'm a total goof, but to make my ranting clear, somebody got my little hidden musical reference! Star2234, you have utterly made my night! And because you have put me in such a lovely mood, I think I am going to finish writing this chapter tonight instead of just adding a paragraph or two. But here is where it gets tricky though, because everything up to this has pretty much been fluff, and now I'm actually going to try my hand at some real writing. Cross your fingers for me please, cause I have the feeling I am going to need some serious luck.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, but i'll tell ya again.

I would love it if you enjoyed this!

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I'm not a liar.

Please don't think that about me. I know that's what it may seem like at the moment, like I am this incredibly manipulative bitch who lives inside a fairytale world of her own elaborately concocted falsehood, suckering those around her inside of it with her. But honestly that just isn't the case. I know that my word isn't worth much at this point, but I really did wander through the neighborhood on my way home from group. I really did stumble onto the pool and ask the neighbors about that stupid little fake fundraiser. I really did start heading off after group with the intentions of swimming alone...at least for a while.

But then it happened, he happened, and it all changed. One night that man showed up.

You think you have a sense about these things, you think that somehow, someway you would know if there were someone only a few feet behind you, especially in the absolute stillness of the night air. You think so, or at least I did, but you don't. I was lost in my own little world and completely oblivious to the presence seated silently in the shadows, oblivious to the man who would make me wish I had never crossed over his threshold. I don't have any idea how long he had been there for, but it wasn't until I was ready to leave and in the process of hoisting myself over the side that I saw him. With all of my weight resting on my arms as I attempted to pull myself up from out of the water, my elbows bucked once I caught sight of this man, sitting calmly in an expensive lawn chair under the illusion of shadows surrounding his mansion.

And yes, I said his threshold, and his mansion, because the man who had called my name tonight was the was the owner of the home on which I was trespassing, the proprietor of the pool which I had grown accustomed to calling my own. There wasn't anything particularly portentous about his immediate presence, he was exactly the kind of man you would expect to live in this kind of neighborhood. He was a businessman in his late thirties, with a wife and a child spending the summer with relatives in the states, who frequently came back to Toronto in order to do a bit of work for his office. It was on one of these visits that he happened across me on his property, a teenage girl stripped to wet undergarments alone in his pool.

I'm not a whore.

Please don't think that about me. I know it must seem dirty, that there must be something going on between us for him to allow me to keep coming back, and for me to actually do so, but that simply isn't the case. He has never laid a hand on me, not once in all the nights he has sat and watched me. Because that's all he does, just sits and watches. I know, it's creepy and disgusting and any girl with half a brain cell should run in the opposite direction from any older man who gets off by watching her swim in her underwear. I know all this, and the knowledge used to gnaw at me endlessly whenever I would show up at his house in the middle of the night. But still I would show up. God, who knows why I did it, maybe I was scared of what he might do if I stopped, maybe I was flattered that someone thought I was nice to look at, or maybe I just couldn't stand the thought of living again without the water. I don't know I don't know I don't know.

Or maybe I do. Maybe I do but I just don't want to think about it, maybe I just don't want to think about anything besides the cool rush of water against my skin, the muted slap of waves against tiles, the moonlight bouncing off of an ever-changing surface. Maybe I don't want to think about boys that leave, or dad that might not come home, or moms that act like children, or best friends that can't seem to think about me.

Maybe.

He didn't move an inch when my arms gave out from under me and when I fell back into the water with a seemingly deafening splash. Heart racing, I sputtered and flailed around in terror until I had righted myself as soon as possible, feeling horribly vulnerable and exposed in my discombobulated condition. Then, when I was able to stand and could look around me, he was gone. I was sure he had retreated into his house, but I was by no means going to investigate this assumption, and quickly shot out of the gate towards home. I didn't go back there for the remainder of the week, scared to death of the consequences my actions might hold in store for me, but at the same time missing the place dreadfully. Finally, I snuck back, emboldened by the lack of his presence when I arrived, but still careful to stick close to the edges of the pool for a swift route of escape. But then again, when I was leaving he was there, watching me intently. This time he spoke, only to ask one thing, my name. I answered truthfully, giving him my first, and not inquiring of his own. At this he smiled sadly, turned and made his way back towards the direction from which he had come. I stood in a sort of daze for a moment or two, but when my senses returned I also made my way home.

It was then that I would come back.

And I did, over and over again in the weeks that drug on before he left to rejoin his family, though never did I establish any sense of ease or comfort with him. We spoke sparingly, and even then he was the only one to initiate such conversation. I answered with nods when I could, and simple "yes's" and "no's" as much as possible; I did not feel any of his need to spare our personal lives with each other. This disappointed him I could tell, but I did not feel any sympathy towards him. He intrigued me in a strange, frightening way, in a way that made my heart pound and my chest tighten on the path to the water's edge, but still, even this did nothing to satiate the anxious gnawing that ate away at me whenever I saw him.

Then he left, and I felt the gnawing subside a bit.

Then Craig showed up, and the gnawing was gradually forgotten, replaced by the giddy anticipation of meeting a boy at the pool who wasn't old and married and creepy as hell. With Craig I had managed to push away the inevitable fact that the man was coming back, that it was in fact his home and the reasons he allowed me to frequent it wouldn't work for Craig as well.

The last time that I had seen him had started out like all the others. He was not anywhere to be seen when I arrived, but sometime during my swim he emerged from the darkness to watch me. At first I had tried to look for him, keeping an eye trained in the direction of the pool door to be guarded against his entrance, but I never caught him. In the second, the instant that my gaze departed he would appear, silent and stealthy as a serpent, and just as ominous. But this time he left his seat, moving with that same surreptitiousness so that he was within a breath of me once I had climbed out of the water.

I had never been so close to him, and it was with everything in me that I wanted to push him away violently and make a break for the gate, but I didn't. Instead I stood stock-still and waited for him to make the first move, hoping fanatically that he would simply turn and walk away, satisfied with our momentary closeness. Then he opened his mouth to speak, his words only to tell me that he was going back to his family for a month, but that I was welcome to visit upon his absence. When he had grown quiet once more, he raised a hand as if to stroke my cheek, but thankfully thought better of it and lowered it slowly. For this, I was grateful, and closed my eyes in relief. Upon opening them, I expected him to be gone, but to my surprise and somewhat disgust, he stood planted before me just the same. His lips had curled into a repulsive smirk, as he had taken my reaction to be one of reverie instead of relief. He started at me for a moment or two longer, before finally turning to leave.

That night, I prayed for a plane crash.

* * *

So this might be getting towards the end, I haven't decided yet... 


	9. Revelations

So, I don't think it is going to come as a shock to anyone when I say that that last chapter was more than a bit disappointing. I don't know how or why or anything really,but I just couldn't seem to get across the guilty, squirmy feeling Ellie gets from this dude watching her swim,or why shegoes back regardless. It's one of those situations where you have a picture in your mind of how the thing is supposed to play out , but when it comes down to actually putting it down on paper, things just don't seem to really flow. Ehh, it's not as if I am planning on going pro with the whole writing thing or anything, but suggestions and constructive criticism are welcomed. And on a different note, did y'all know that this story is the most reviewed out of everything I've posted? Yay, that really means a ton to me, even though I guess the fact that it is also has the most chapters might have something to do with it. But anyway, on with it.

Disclaimer: Sorry, but no.

Here we go again...

* * *

But obviously, unfortunately, the plane didn't crash, because here he is. Standing before the two of us tonight, asking me a question. A question I wasn't answering. 

I don't want to answer him, I don't want to speak with him, to look at him, to hear him, to feel him, to have anything to do with him ever, ever again. I want him to disappear, to utterly vanish so that it is just Craig and I, alone in the water as if it were a few days ago. Or better yet, I want this pool to be owned by anyone and everyone except this creepy old perv staring me down tonight as he has done on so many other occasions.

I don't know why I find his presence so frightening. He has never touched me, never threatened me, never done anything at all but watch me. God though, if you could have seen the _way _he watched me. Not that I would wish such a thing upon you, of course, it was uncomfortable enough just to endure it myself. I always tried the best I could not to make eye contact with him, but you've gotta know how hard it is not to meet someone's gaze when you feel their stare on you. However, on occasion I did give in to stealing a glance, but whenever this happened I was sickened slightly by what I found. His eyes had this hunger, this desperate, greedy, insatiable hunger pooling within their depths. It was disgusting. Just like him.

But tonight, feeling slightly emboldened with Craig there, I dared to take a peek in his direction. Strangely enough, the hunger was gone. Though perhaps, not so strangely at all, because I don't think he would have been staring at my companion in quite the same fashion as he had at me. Instead glaring daggers at Craig, his eyes now took on a smoldering fury, a quiet rage that somehow comforted me. I was the one to have angered him, I made him unhappy in his own home. Maybe I had some control here after all.

He was irritated by my silence, and with his gaze still burning a hole into Craig, he reiterated his initial inquiry in a low, dangerous voice.

"I said, I didn't know that you had a boyfriend Ellie. It wasn't very nice of you to keep that a secret from me, was it?"

In spite of the uncomfortable nature of the situation I now found myself in, I was disgusted to feel the beginnings of a blush start to creep up my cheeks at his insinuation that Craig was my boyfriend. Seriously, this guy could rape me, or murder me, or at the very least turn me into the police, and here I am embarrassed that he called some pretty boy my boyfriend? I am acting ridiculous. Quickly, I opened my intending to deny his accusation, but the pretty boy in question beat me to the punch.

"So what if she does? You didn't think a gorgeous girl like her would be all alone and yours for the taking, did you?"

Okay, wait, is this really happening? Did Craig not only fail to correct this man's assumption that the two of us were together, but actually encourage it by calling me gorgeous? I have got to be on something, I mean, how else would you explain the fact that I am in my underwear, in a stranger's pool, caught between my best friend's boyfriend and a rich pervert, scared to death but strangely flattered? Geez, the weird little goth girl certainly has come a long way.

"Well now young sir, I really don't think you have any standing to get nasty with me. Just whose pool do you think you happen to be in at the moment?" He snarled back at Craig.

But then again, I obviously haven't come that far, because somehow I have landed myself right in the middle of all... this. God, and I haven't even begun to explain the situation to Craig! Oh joy, that is certain to provide for one hell of an interesting conversation, which should be just what I need after whatever it is this night is going to throw at me. But in the back of my mind, what I keep mulling over the fact that although Craig doesn't have any idea of what exactly is going on between this man and I, (though surely the pedophile/slut scenario has played through his mind) he is still facing this possibly dangerous guy almost blindly in order to defend me. And I know my thoughts should have been occupied by more pressing matters at the moment, but for some reason right now all I can seem to take notice of is the boy in front of me.

And I don't know if he even realized it, but he was edging his way ever so slightly in front of me, sheltering me protectively from the man's aforementioned gaze with his own body. And I hate it when people try to shelter me, hate it when they try to shield my eyes, hate it when they feel like I need to be protected, but tonight for some reason I was overcome with a rising tenderness towards him for doing so. And all of the sudden, right then, right there, all I wanted to do was reach out from behind him and wrap my arms around Craig, burying my face against the strong expanse of his back. I wanted to press myself into something firm, something steady, something that could have kept me from being in this situation in the first place. I wanted security and support and friendship and flirting and fighting. I wanted him, and the realization hit me hard like an unexpected, dirty blow straight to the gut.

I, Ellie fucking Nash, _wanted_ Craig Manning, Degrassi's very own playboy, complete with your stereotypical combination of philandering ways, tousled good looks and musician's charm. I was no better than Manny Santos.

Then suddenly, the bubble of my earth-shattering epiphany eviscerated with a pop as I felt two sets of eyes staring at me expectantly. It took a second for me to remember that while I had been lost in my reverie, the two males in my company had continued to take pointed jabs at one another in their verbal duel. At some point one of them must have asked me a question, the answer to which they were both awaiting tensely.

Clearing my throat nervously, I used the momentary distraction to try and think of something bitingly clever to say. I knew that it would surely be in my best interest to agree with whatever it was that Craig had said, but I doubted a lame, "yeah" would really be of any help. Thankfully though, the attention shifted away from me when a female voice called out from inside the house.

"Baby, what is taking you so long? I'm getting lonely inside this big old house all by myself!"

That's strange. His wife wasn't due back with him this week. He couldn't honestly be stupid enough to come out and watch me while his family was innocently waiting inside, could he? Then just as the thought crossed my mind, I spotted a female form making its way out of the shadows towards our direction, and my throat closed. An angry wife could potentially be a dangerous catalyst to this situation, for either of our sides. But as the figure grew nearer and I could make out her bed sheet clad shape, she spoke again, and the voice was familiar.

"Honey, what's going-ELLIE? CRAIG?"

"Heather?" Craig and I exclaimed in a chorus of shocked unison.

Just what the hell was Heather Sinclair doing naked in this man's house?

* * *

I actually just thought that up at the last second, I hope it fits. 


	10. Arrangements

Seriously, what the hell am I going to do when this story is completed? I mean, besides the obvious work, summer term, work, fall term, work...you get the picture. But still, what with no ideas to formulate, no chapters to write, no reviews to sign on at three in the morning to read, I'm not going to know what to do with myself! Sigh, I guess I will have to write another fic, but my brain is dry at the moment. I received a couple of reviews saying that chapter eight confused people, but I don't know how else to explain myself. The guy is a creep, and Ellie is ashamed that she kept letting him watch her. Good enough? Yeah, I didn't think so. Maybe one day I will get smart and re-write that part...but that day isn't anytime in the near future.

Disclaimer: Someone else's

Another Chapter, another chance to review...

* * *

I would have to guess that Heather's reasons for being hereare not the same as my own. 

" You...you know each other?" He stuttered, (God, the unshakable sleezeball fucking stuttered!) clearing his throat soundly while those nasty little beady eyes of his darted fretfully from Heather to Craig to me, before settling back on the face of his young mistress.

Holy fucking nose-job batman, Heather Sinclair... oh geez...

If there was ever a time I wished I had Paige Michaelchuck on speed-dial...

Then I felt a small wave lap lazily at my exposed stomach as a slow movement before me caused the water to ripple. And I had to stop myself from gasping a little, because there was Craig, now barely a breath away, looking back over his shoulder at me with a devious glint in his eyes. Upon catching my gaze, a small smirk broke out over his lips, (gorgeous lips might I add, just how I had I never noticed this before?) and with the smallest nudge of his chin he motioned over in the direction of the happy couple. But they weren't really happy, I was just being sarcastic. I figure I had better straighten that out, since you can't really see what's going on and you might take that last statement to be the truth. Or maybe I've underestimated you, and you know me well enough by now to tell when I am being sarcastic (since it is pretty much always), and you are really starting to get pissed at me for rambling on and on when all you want me to do is get to the point about what the hell is going on here, but BACK THE FUCK OFF because Craig's mouth isn't right in front of you and his fucking gorgeous lips aren't mesmerizing you, and your own reaction isn't scaring you to death and-

The movement of Craig's chin is decidedly more pronounced now, more of a jerk than a nudge, and it is with great difficulty thatI manage to tear my eyes away from those lips and look in the direction towards which he has been motioning for several moments now.

Desperately to convey his wish that she return to the house, Mr. Nasty McPerv was making odd little strangled voices in the back of his throat while the skin stretched taut across his bulging left eyeball convulsed with a nervous tick. Miss Sinclair, however, did not seem entirely keen on following through with his plan. Staring past him, she had crossed her bare arms haughtily over her almost naked chest and was proceeding to stare me down in what I'm sure she thought was an intimidating fashion. Her squint narrowed down to dark slits almost indistinguishable against her fake bake face once I cracked a wide grin after my Craig-induced daze had worn off, a reaction that only made my smile grow even bigger. And that in turn only made her squint even smaller. Now this sort of vicious cycle I like. I don't expect much from Heather Sinclair, but come on, jealously over this old married guy? Finally, I found my voice and decided it was high time for a little fun.

"Oh, yeah! We know Heather from school...you know, HIGH school. Surely you can remember it from way back when, it's the place where us MINORS get our education."

Heather's glare was positively venomous now, and though I'm sure Mr. Nasty had not previously assumed us to all be of age, actually hearing me declare our status seemed to suck any voice he might have left from his lungs. Silly little pedophile.

We must have made quite the group, the four of us. Heather wrapped scantily in a sheet and looking ready, willing and eager to rip my throat out, her sugar-daddy trying not-so-discretely to distance himself from her while sweating and twitching profusely, Craig's (heavenly) shoulders heaving slightly with barely suppressed fits of laughter, and me smiling foolishly and stealing peeks at the boy in front of me whenever I could. Silence once filled the nighttime air, and while I'm sure the tense quiet was horribly unnerving for the other pair, it only made the situation that much more amusing for Craig and I.

Oh wow, tonight is...wow.

"So," Craig began, lifting his hands out of the water and mock dusting them off with an air of business-like solemnity, "if I'm not mistaken, I believe we have an understanding?"

Of course, such an understand hadn't been verbalized at all, barely a word had even been spoken since Heather's arrival, but I understood exactly what Craig was implying and I knew they did as well. If they would keep their mouths shut, so would we, simple as that.

I held up a single finger to my lips as they curved upward with a vindictive sneer. Though his eye continued to twitch, Mr. Nasty's body went limp with relief. Heather's narrowed eyes were still smoldering, but I knew she would keep her silence in order to make him happy. He issued us a curt nod, and without a word placed a hand on her back to usher her back inside. As they were walking away Heather threw me a triumphant smirk over her shoulder, though how she thought she had triumphed over me I have no idea. But really, who understands Heather Sinclair anyway?

Still, despite my sudden burst of confidence, I couldn't hold in the deep sigh of relief that I breathed once they were out of sight. Now once again alone with Craig, the issue of explaining my situation to him was pushed to the forefront. What a way to spoil my good mood. Avoidance sounded like as good a plan as any, so I tried to make my way towards the steps leading out of the pool, but soon I too felt a hand on my back. Mustering up a look of bored indifference, I turned to face him and found his own face creased and painted with an expression of disappointed somberness.

God, of all the emotions he could have thrown me, why did it have to be disappointment? Anger would have been okay, because I could have gotten angry back. Disgust would have been okay, because I am used to shrugging off other people's repulsion. Disappointment though, disappointment is so... so personal. Does that make sense? I know anger can be personal, and so can disgust, but you can be angry or disgusted with any old person who cuts you off on the highway. Disappointment is different. I inhaled sharply and opened my mouth.

"Craig, I don't really know.." but I trailed off when a strange little gasping sound escaped his lips.

Wait...was he...he couldn't be...but was he...laughing?

He was! Struggling valiantly to maintain his somber appearance but losing hopelessly, successions of quiet, choked chuckles were managing to escape his lips. His eyes had lost their graveness, and now were bright and twinkling withsaid laughter. The hand on my back pressed lightly onto my exposed skin as he pulled me over to him. Wrapping me tightly in an unquestionably platonic but still terribly exciting hug, he sputtered out a few words with his chin resting on the top of my head.

"Oh God Nash, I'm really going to have to keep my eye on you, aren't I?"

I smiled, not smirked or sneered or grinned sardonically, but really and truly smiled, and dared to let myself rest my cheekagainst the bare skin of his chest. Craig Manning was going to keep his eye on me.

And now, standing here with Ashley in my cap and gown and watching longingly as those eyes glanced my way once before returning to rest lovingly on another girl, I wish with everything in me that he had.

Oh well, we'll always have the moonlight.

* * *

What do y'all think about an epilogue? 


	11. Airplanes

Geez, summer school has been kicking my ass! Well, has been and is proceeding to so at the moment. I should be reading right now, and I should be studying, but most of all I guessI should be sleepingsince it's past three in the morning and I have to go to work and to school tomorrow...which I guess is really today. Arg! Anyways, I have been itching to get this epilogue out of my head and down into words for forever now, so if its rushed please forgive me, but this whole thing was kind of a now or never thing. Or maybe not never...more of a now or in September thing. Yeah, I'm thinking I should shut up with the forward and get on with the story.

Disclaimer: it's not mine

Here we go, my first ever epilogue!

* * *

"Oh God Nash, I'm really going to have to keep my eye on you, aren't I?" 

He said it teasingly, and nestled his chin against the top of my head while his lean body twitched against mine with stifled laughter. I pressed myself into him, daring to let our bare, wet skin touch, and after a bit of this his laughter subsided. He tensed noticeably, the friendly embrace he held me in loosening as he pulled away slowly, dark eyes searching my questioning ones to ask permission for what he was about to do. Finding nothing but approval in my gaze, he lowered his lips to mine and delivered the single sweetest, most meaningful kiss that two people have ever shared in all of Degrassi, Toronto, or hell, probably even Canada. When finally we broke apart to gasp for breath, his cheek found its way against my forehead, our faces resting together perfectly as though their meeting had been preordained. Softly, he whispered his undying love and devotion to me, forsaking Ashley and all other brunette sluts in the hopes of finding true happiness with the redhead everyone else had overlooked. I, of course, returned the sentiment, and from that night forward the two of us were never separated. With steadfast fidelity and unwavering passion, we persevering through all that our senior year could throw at us, standing together hand in hand at graduation and looking ahead eagerly to what the future would hold for us. We went on to marry, making tons and tons of pale little curly headed babies, some with locks of amber and some with tresses of chocolate, but all of them beautiful. And we lived happily ever after. The end.

And Kendra Mason won Miss Universe.

I mean, come on! Did you honestly think anything romantic would transpire between the two of us? You already knew how the school year played out, and it definitely wasn't in my favor.

But in case you didn't, or if you have selective amnesia, let me refresh your memory. Ashley stayed in England and voila, suddenly Craig was unattached and not so forbidden. We had a minor falling out over the subject, but came back from it better friends than ever. Key word here, _friends_. Then, on the advice of my gay little matchmaker Marco, I stupidly decided to do something about this troublesome crush of mine on said guitar-player. Fast-forward to our wedding gig and my hideous crash and burn at any chance of a non-platonic relationship, involving a ridiculously expensive dress and childish drumstick-throwing antics. Nevertheless, the evening provided romance for some, as the object of my affection rediscovered the love he held for his dead baby's mama. The two of them then swiftly engaged in a rigorous competition to see who could suck each other's face off the fastest in the weeks that followed. I, on the other hand, continued to be viewed as just another "one of the guys." Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but not many "guy friends" pin one another to the ground in tickle fights, do they? Didn't think so, but obviously that little hint didn't matter to the densest boy on earth.

So yadda, yadda, he goes away to pursue his dream and I pull the "I'm happy with whatever makes you happy" bullshit, though I cried furiously for days once he was gone over the shattered million little pieces that once made up my battered heart. I scraped hard at the remaining shards to find feelings other than friendship for Jimmy, but unfortunately I still came up empty-handed. For a second, I though that this might have been how Craig felt about the two of us, but that notion hurt too much, so I pushed it away. Months passed, and we glimpsed each other at graduation, and shared a few words at Paige's party following the ceremony, but then he was off and again we went our separate ways.

So imagine my surprise when Marco showed up at my door early one summer morning, whooping loudly and jumping up and down like a little boy on Christmas morning. Groggily, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and almost dropped the cell phone that de Rossi eagerly thrust it into my hands. I heard a familiar voice issuing from it, and after lifting the small device to my ear I felt wide awake at once.

"So whaddya think Nash?" Craig asked me tauntingly, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. I knew exactly the type of face he must be making at that moment, the crinkle that would be forming at the corners of his eyes, the direction his shaggy head would be tilting, the rhythm his fingers would be drumming. It scares me how vividly I can still see him.

"What the hell are you talking about Manning? This little homo messenger of yours woke me up from a lovely deep sleep, and I am in no mood for guessing games. Explain yourself." I replied gruffly, trying hard to maintain a tone of indifference while my heart performed an intricate routine of flip-flops.

"He didn't tell you, eh? Well its really a long story..."

"Manning..."

"Nash..."

"I'm warning you..."

We could have gone on like this for hours, both of us stubborn as hell and unwilling to give in. God, how I had missed this, our sarcastic banter and good-humored malice. We knew exactly how to push each other's buttons, and were carefully skirting our way around the question at hand just to piss the other the hell off. How could he not see the thinly-veiled flirting that was going on here?

Thankfully though, Marco did, and interrupted.

"Tickets Elle, tickets! Craig got us tickets out to Vancouver to go see him! We leave next week!" He had clutched his flawlessly manicured hands over his heart, and his wide-eyed enthusiasm fit the bill for your basic stereotype of blissful gay exuberance. Oh, my silly Marco, how differently we conveyed ourselves, yet still managed to understand each another perfectly.

A huge smile broke out over my face, but I spoke sullenly into the phone. "Next week? Thinking a little highly of yourself, aren't you sir? That's awfully short notice to demand such a visit you know. Why makes you think I don't have pressing prior engagements?"

Marco rolled his eyes at me and made fish-faced kissy gestures. In return I stomped on his foot and stuck out my tongue. All three of us knew that I was definitely going.

"Break 'em." He drawled, "No one in Degrassi means as much to you as me."

Oh God, if only he knew how right he was...

The week went by in no time, and soon we were on our way to Vancouver. Marco almost hyperventilated when the plane hit turbulence, and to be totally honest with you, I was scared as well, but laughing at him took some of the edge off my nerves. Though I wasn't completely put at ease by the "fasten seatbelt" sign, the nervous jumble in my stomach was really due more in part to the boy who was waiting for us than the ups and downs of our transportation.

Marco spotted him first across the pandemonium in the airport, and the second I saw him I knew I had made the right choice in coming here. He was smiling that same old smile, the one that radiated his easy confidence and sly charm, telling me in an instant that Vancouver hadn't taken the boy I was in love with out of him. I was the first one he greeted, and he hugged me tightly and set his chin on the top of my head just like that night at the pool had been yesterday, and not over a year ago. I wanted to get lost in that moment, to stop time and make everyone else besides us disappear, but before I knew it he had released me and moved on to Marco. Just like old times...just us guys.

Vancouver was fun, Craig had a good time showing us around the city, and we had a good time playing tourists, but I am not going to bore you with our itinerary. We saw some cool places, met some intriguing people, and ate some awesome food, but nothing that would really be interesting to anyone besides the three of us. Besides, the daytime was fine, but it's what happened at night that made that trip so memorable.

He was trying his best to be quiet when he came into our hotel room that first night, but I could tell he was there from the second he opened the door. I had been sleeping, but the soft click of the lock jolted me awake in an instant, and a flicker of fear shot through me. Then I saw the lanky form and knew it had to be him, because he had taken Marco's key to the room the two of us shared at dinner, tucking the card inside his back pocket until we had forgotten all about it. Looking quite comical on tiptoe, Craig snuck past the boy who was snoring softly on the double bed beside mine and my heartbeat quickened. What did he want?

My lids were closed but somehow he knew I was faking. Kneeling beside my bed, he flicked my shoulder hard and hissed for me to wake up. I tried to feign sleepiness, but I could tell in the way that he was squinting at me he didn't buy it for one second. I dropped the act and sat up, looking inquiringly at him as the mattress beside me sank under the weight of his elbows, which he was leaning on.

"What do you want Craig? Can't you tell I need my beauty rest?"

"Why bother Elle? Looks like to me like you would have to be asleep for years to get any use out of if."

"You know, I didn't come all this way to be insulted. Good night." With that I slumped back down onto my pillow, pulling the covers up protectively to my chin, only to have them ripped away almost immediately.

"Craig!" I sat up once again. "What the-"

He grabbed me, throwing me gracelessly over his shoulder as though I were nothing more than his guitar case, and was already beginning to make his way out of the room before I could come to my senses and protest.

"Craig!" I dumbly repeated, attempting to flail my arms and legs against him.

"Shh!" he ordered, and for some reason I shut up and listened to him. "The hotel has a great pool, but it's locked after hours so we have to be quiet. Feel like a swim, Nash?"

* * *

So I lied. Well, only sorta, this started out as an epilogue, but I had too many ideas to fit into one installment. Can an epilogue be written in chapters? Or should I stop here? 


	12. Brunettes

Yeah, I would have to agree with you there ma'am. This story had most definitely "fizzled out," and I'm not proud of it, but I have read enough bad writing to know it when I read it...or write it. Oh well, that's what I get from trying my hand at actually writing a plot into my fic's, but I have learned my lesson. I should just stick to fluff, and so that's what I plan to do here. Plus, judging from the reviews I received thus far, I think that y'all are in favor of my doing so. Or at least I hope so. Don't take that as boastfulness, because I am probably the most modest person you will ever meet. (but then again, saying so doesn't really sound very modest of me, does it?) ANYWAY... I know that you can't really call this thing I am doing an "epilogue," because who the hell ever heard of a multi-chaptered one of those, but I don't know what else it to call it. So how about you just read and review it regardless?

Oh and I am confused. An account? Who are "we?"

And the skinny dipping idea? Hilarious, I never thought of that!

Disclaimer: Someone else's

As if I would really end it there! Silly readers, how I love you all so...

* * *

I gave a few more half-hearted, feeble kicks into the air just to prove that I wasn't going to go without a fight, though I doubt they were any good at convincing him. He knew me, and he knew that I was enjoying this much more than I was willing to admit.

I mean, what was not to enjoy? I was with Craig, alone, and on my way to an abandoned pool at three in the morning. (Hmm, sound familiar?)Oh yeah, I had definitely made the right choice in coming here. It was dark in the hotel room when Craig left with me over his shoulder, but I swear I saw a smirk on Marco's face as we passed his bed. Damn those acting skills he picked up from doing a little bit of Shakespeare back in high school. He's going to have a freaking field day with interrogating me when I get back.

But my good mood took a turn for the worse after we were out in the hall and making our way for the elevator. Craig pretended to trip and fall in order to illicit a very uncharacteristic squeal from me, (which, I'm ashamed to admit, he succeeded in doing) a thought suddenly struck me as hard as if I had actually slammed face first into the cheap carpet beneath us.

Had he had been planning this little scenario all along?

What this what he had had in mind last week when he called up Marco and offered him those damned plane tickets? Had everything leading up to tonight been a devious and elaborate ploy to get me naked? Was he horny and lonely due to his long separation from Miss Santos and planning to take advantage of the feelings I had so foolishly shown at the wedding gig last year? Or was this outing nothing more than a late night notion born of insomnia and boredom?

Surely the latter was true. Obviously. I mean, he had already told us how stressed out he was over writing lyrics to a song the label was pressing him to record. He was simply in need of a break, that was why he invited us here, and that is why he is taking me out for a late night (early morning?) swim. It was silly of me to think that he could possibly consider me as a real girl, a do-able female to be ogled and manhandled. After all, I was "Nash" his buddy, his pal, his faithful drummer sidekick. Guys didn't want to see their high school chums stripped down and soaked to the bone.

Well, guys other than Marco, of course.

And anyways, I didn't want to be manhandled, and I certainly did not wish to be ogled.

But then again, he had swiped that room card from Marco...

And he had stared at me in a manner that certainly was more than friendly at the pool last summer...

Dare I say he even ogled me?

I really didn't mind that too much...

God! Now here I am, back to square one. Ellie Nash, surprise, surprise, is once again befuddled by the actions of Craig Manning. Some things never change.

Sigh, my confusion might not have changed, but our scenery had. He carried me through the last in a series of doorways, and once outdoors we were able to whisper a bit more freely.

"Oh wow, are we going to go swimming in the middle of the night Mr. Manning? Golly gee, you certainly are a remarkably original young man, where in the world did you ever come up with such an idea?" I remarked from my inelegant position, the snide comment aimed at the small of his back.

"If you must know, I heard a rumor that this weird girl I went to school with used to sneak into some stranger's pool late at night to go swimming. I thought it sounded kind of fun, so I was wondering if you wanted to try it out with me?"

"It doesn't look like I have a choice, now does it?"

"Well, no. I was just asking so that you would think I was a gentleman. But about that girl, she ended up getting caught, so we need to be sure to be a bit more careful."

"I don't think that should be too hard, I mean, those redheads are pretty oblivious."

I said it with my usual sneer, the one he must know by now meant I was kidding, so I was a bit taken aback by his response. From vantage point the expression on his face was hidden from me, but yet again I had a pretty good idea of what it must look like once I heard the unexpected tone his voice took on.

He made a gruff "humph" in the back of his throat, and replied almost under his breath with a slightly bitter tinge, "Not as oblivious as brunettes though, evidentially."

Wait, was he talking about Manny? Or Ashley? Or could it possibly be...himself?

But of course, we had reached the locked entrance to the pool by then and he didn't say anything more on the subject. He set me down, (quite gently, I might add) and laced his fingers together to give me a leg up over the barrier before us. I paused for a second, looking anxiously over my shoulder in the shadows behind us, but soon my bare foot was in his hand and I heaved myself over the wrought iron bars. He scrambled up over the fence right after me, and once he hit the ground he began to pull off his clothes. There was a momentary flutter of apprehension in my stomach, where I yet again pondered the peculiarity of our current situation, especially with what all has happened between us since last summer. But then he shot me a sideways glance and smiled one of those smiles, and my hands were pulling at the waistband of the boxers I always slept in.

What the hell? Why does this have to feel so fucking right? Why can't it feel awkward or uncomfortable, or anything that swimming practically naked with a one of my closest friends, who happens to be a boy, who happens to have taken my best friend's virginity and who I happen to have a minor obsession over, should feel like? If only it felt like that then I could just walk away, just turn around leave him and all the conflict and drama that came with him behind me. If only I could not feel that dangerous, magnetic pull from him that gripped stronger at me with every smile, every laugh, every second that we spend together. Things would be so much easier for me if the emotion flowing coursing through me veins right now was one of apathy, or maybe even revulsion.

But it's not. The feeling coming over me is something smooth, and easy, and a perfect fit. I know I should feel out of place, but I don't. Instead I feel as though here, at an off-limits hotel pool a few hours before dawn, is the only place in the entire universe that I could possibly be at the moment, the only place I am meant to be. This feeling is why we stayed friends after I embarrassed the hell out of myself back at the wedding, because despite what happens between the two of us, we just get each other. We get along.

But I guess that how it is with best friends. Not boyfriends.

A splash jolted me away from my pathetic little emo kid whininess and back down to earth. Stupid Ellie. Craig Manning is in his boxers, soaking wet, and waiting for you to get in the pool with him. Why waste time fixating over what has already been? I need to turn my attention to what is to come.

Damn, I forgot how nice the water feels.

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This is fun to write. Is it fun to review? Try it and find out! 


	13. Spells

Okay, how deliriously proud of myself am I to be writing a story with reviews nearing the hundred-mark? Let me just go ahead and tell ya, EXTREMELY! What a safe little high they give me! Okay, you can stop rolling your eyes at me, I know that I am pathetic. What can I say, I thrive on praise (it's the secret attention-whore in me.) I'm trying my best to get this whole thing written up and posted, but as I might have mentioned before, life is kinda hectic right now. So just rest assured that I am trying, and that it will happen...in time.

Disclaimer: Naw...

Ok, this is mostly dialogue, but I hope that's okay.

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"Do you ever wonder about us?"

The question caught me totally off-guard. Did I think about Craig Manning?

Obviously.

Constantly.

In fact, some might even say it bordered on obsession.

But then again, people would have to know something of said obsession to say such a thing, and thank the freaking lord that no one does. Well, maybe Marco a little, but even my butt-bumping ex-boyfriend isn't fully aware to the extent of my longing for the infamous man-whore guitar player. But yeah, to get back on track, why was he asking? Oh God, did he know? I mean, I knew that he knew that I had a bit of a crush on him, but he had always avoided the subject. Why bring it up now? Had Marco said something? Oh God. Oh God, oh God...hey God? Please kill me now. No wait, kill Marco then kill me. Stupid blabbermouth. I'll murder him. That is, if I haven't been struck dead by the grace of Jesus already. If that's the case then I'll come back from the dead and murder him. Then I would be undead though, and I don't think that I would enjoy that very much...

Okay, wait. I am having a mental breakdown and Craig is still talking. Maybe I should stop freaking the hell out and actually listen to him.

"I mean, do you ever wonder if we still would have become friends if I hadn't followed you to the pool that night?

Oh yeah. Friends. Of course.

I try my best to look unaffected, (which wasn't too hard since I am quite used to feigning such an appearance) and answer him.

"I don't really know. Probably, I guess. We still would have seen each other all the time at group and everything, I'm sure some kind of an icebreaker was bound to happen."

"Hmmm, so what you're really trying to say is that there's no way you could have resisted me last summer even if you hadn't spent so much time gazing at my naked body."

"Come now sir, you exaggerate. You were only half-naked."

"You're right. If it was my completely naked body you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from raping me right there in the pool."

"Oh, so is that what you think would have happened last summer if we hadn't been forced to cut our visits short?"

"Well logically, yes. There's no way any able-bodied woman could have been in that close of proximity to my sexy body night after night and not had her way with me."

"Oh really, is that so?"

"Yes ma'am. It's no fault on your part, just plain old human nature."

"And just what makes you think that I still won't?"

"Hey now, no one's stopping you. Manny and me are done for good this time."

At this point in the conversation, I clammed up and splashed him in the face. Whenever our pseudo-flirting/mockery/sexual-innuendo starts edging a bit more towards the intense side I am always the one to change the topic. And it's not because I am embarrassed by the subject matter or anything, but rather that I can never tell whether or not he has crossed the line from teasing to propositioning. Not that he ever would of course, and not that I would accept if he did, but you never know. If it was the right place at the right time...

"Watch the face Nash!" he said, holding up his hands to shield himself from my attack, "I was just wondering! Seriously though, isn't it strange how we became such close friends last summer after barely having spoken to each other before?"

"It's strange that anyone would become your friend Manning, but what happened last year was mostly due to default. There wasn't anyone else left in Degrassi."

"Ouch, now that hurts."

"It was meant to."

"Better watch what you say ma'am, you were dangerously close to quoting something you would die to be associated with."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"You're impossible Craig."

"Impossibly handsome, you mean."

"Oh sure, and your modesty is just that much more attractive."

He gasped in mock surprise, holding up a pruny hand to his chest. "What in the...Miss Nash, you weren't being..._sarcastic_ there were you? Perish the thought!"

"Okay ass, I've changed my mind. We definitely wouldn't have become friends last year if you had not stalked like the maniac you truly are, because you obviously must have put me under some sort of voodoo spell that is only now beginning to wear off."

"Voodoo? Are you blaming my irresistible charisma on voodoo?"

"Yep, I most certainly am."

"Damn. I didn't think anyone would figure out my secret. I'm really sorry about this Elle, but I am afraid I am going to have to kill you now."

He lunged forward and ducked me under the water. Silly Boy. The rest of the night fell into place so seamlessly, it was like no time at all had passed between the two of us. We teased each other shamelessly and mercilessly as only we could, the conversation taking more than one of those detours into provocative mockery that made me squirm just a little. But then before I knew it the sun was beginning to peak out from over the horizon, its soft light coaxing us to head inside exhausted and waterlogged. The next day I couldn't keep the smile off my face...and of course neither could Marco. He kept his mouth shut though, I think he was afraid that if he let on to what he knew we would feel pressured to invite him, therefore ruining the whole romantic tension thing with a third wheel. Little cupid that he is, he has been pushing for us to get together since after he returned from Africa last summer and I am pretty sure he has already picked out my wedding gown. So when we slept in till noon the next day he just went down to get breakfast by himself and did a little self-exploration of the hotel, brushing off our subsequent apologies with that damn smirk.

By the time we finally did haul our asses out of bed that afternoon we decided to do a little bit of sightseeing, Craig took us to visit his studio and so on and so forth. To be honest with you though, I was so preoccupied with what was to follow that night that my mind was kind of elsewhere throughout the course of the day. The studio was interesting though, and I could rattle on with some technical jargon, but then you would just skim through it to wherever I started back up with the story, so what's the point of that?

We went back to the pool that night, and the night after that, and on and on for the entire week Marco and I were there. Craig still snuck into my room every time, and some nights I would pretend to be asleep, and sometimes I would be sitting up and ready for him, or I would sneak out of bed and wait for him by the door, jumping out of the darkness behind him when he entered. And just to let you know, he threw me over his shoulder a couple more times.

Marco never asked where his key went.

Then one night after I got back to our room I couldn't sleep. It didn't matter that swimming had exhausted me as usual, or that I had been awake every night for the past week at an ungodly hour, or that this was damn near the most comfortable hotel bed ever, because there was something on my mind.

We left for Toronto the morning after next. Tomorrow would be my last night at the pool.

* * *

Getting towards the end...  



	14. Questions

So I was planning on making this the last chapter. But I here's the thing, it isn't going to be. I have randomly been typing down a paragraph or so of dialogue whenever a surge of inspiration popped into my head, because I don't have the best of short term memories and good ideas tend to slip through the cracks. Anyways, for awhile now I have had several fragmented chunks floating around my computer just waiting for me to actually use some brainpower to be tie them together. But it's the actual process of doing the tying that has proven more difficult than I anticipated. When I sat down to put the finishing touches on this thing, for the second time, might I add, I figured that I could probably make two chapters out of the bits and pieces (speaking of which, I had one of those milkshakes recently too! Chocolate chip cookie dough, and I wasn't impressed...) that I already had. So look for one more update from me, but not anytime soon. A late summer vacation is better than none at all!

Disclaimer: if this was mine then I definitely wouldn't have had to bother with summer school.

Kinda blah till the end, but I hope you like it!

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Something was on his mind. I could tell.

I mean, we _had_ spent a great deal of time apart, but still, I knew Craig Manning. Well okay, obviously I didn't "know" him know him as in the biblical sense, and I didn't really know how exactly he classified the subject of me and us, and I didn't always know what exactly was going on in the brain that lay beneath his beautiful head of hair, but that's all besides the point. The point is that today, I knew that there was something on his mind. Call it woman's intuition. (But just don't let me hear you, because I think that phrase sounds absurd.)

And just how could I tell that something was off with my...whatever he was? Well, I was being ten kinds of classic Ellie today while the three of us spent our last afternoon together in the city, dropping the kind of pricelessly sarcastic remarks that usually have at least some kind of effect on the guys. Generally, the corners of Craig's eyes crinkle in a bemused manner, as if to say "Nash, you silly girl" and the muscles along Marco's jaw tighten as he bites back his "Oh my God, just get together already you two!" stream of gushing. Sitting together, I'm sure we must seem to outsiders a very mismatched trio.

I adore it though. I love that about them, the perfect mix of juxtaposition between my boys. Craig's mellowness (though it may be medically-induced) and Marco's excitability, (though it may be due to the whole...Italian thing) both so different from my own tense disposition and yet so strangely fascinating. Yeah, okay, who wants to say it?

Nobody?

Alright then, you made me. Opposites attract, alright? But who cares, because we're good for each other, the three of us. I mean, everything just fits so well when we are hanging out, Craig will make an offhand comment, and I will cut him off with some sarcastic retort, and then Marco will flip-out on the both of us...

Way to go Nash. Way to make getting on that plane tomorrow and leaving our group dynamic behind yet again even harder than it is already bound to be.

But you know me, all nostalgic and sentimental and whatnot. Oh I'm such a basket case.

Truly.

But to get back to the issue at hand, today he just wasn't himself. He didn't have any of his normal reactions to the stuff I was throwing out there, and the usually palpable presence that was "Craig Manning," was rather vague. He smiled half-heartedly when I spoke, the snark rolling off the tip of my tongue as though it were an effortless reflex, but kept his eyes focused on a point just beyond me. And what's really pissing me off is that coming up with stuff like that usually is reflexive. I rarely have to give any effort to thinking up something biting to say, but today I was trying so hard just to get that boy to take his eyes off whatever the hell was behind me, that I was finding my own tongue rather dry and my wit waning.

Needless to say, I am quite irritated with myself for trying to impress a boy in the first place. Old-school goth Ellie would be appalled.

Having failed to capture his attention though, I was faced with two choices. To accept defeat and sink back into mopey-ness until we boarded the plane early tomorrow morning, or try my absolute hardest to capture Craig's interest once more before I was out of his life and thousands of miles away. I chose the latter.

But without much luck. Even on our trek back to the hotel when we passed a rather "loose" looking girl with relatively familiar exotic-type features, he didn't quite catch my obscure reference to that girl of his back home. (Marco certainly did though, what with his pathetic excuse for aghast stuttering hardly concealing his guilty laughter.)

Speaking of "his girl" though, he had said that they were through. What the hell does that exactly mean anyways? Of course the investigative reporter in me wanted to know when, where and why about the supposed breakup, but I rationalized that to interrogate him over someone whose name we usually side-stepped around would seem a bit obvious. And if he had been really worked up over it then he would have let me know, wouldn't he? I mean, isn't that what "friends who happen to be girls" are good for, to listen to whatever purportedly girly problems a dude doesn't feel masculine enough to pose to his male friends? And while we are on the subject, just what had he meant by that little remark about brunettes being oblivious? You can't just drop something like that out in the open and then pretend like it never happened! Almost a week had passed since he uttered those ambiguous words, and still I was in the dark as to whom or what he had been referring to.

Boys...

In fact, he seemed so preoccupied that I was afraid he might forget about tonight. We ate a rather extravagant dinner in the hotel's restaurant, (courtesy of Craig's label) and then parted ways to prepare for the long night ahead of us. Get this, he waved at us before he turned around and headed off towards his own room. Who the hell waves at a couple of friends before they go to bed? I mean, waving is for looking back through airplane windows, or leaning out of a car's passenger side, or something else in the same category of finality. Not for walking down the hall to a hotel room.

But I could be overanalyzing this.

Because when the time rolled around, he didn't forget, and he did come to my room, and he did throw me over his shoulder and we did go down to the pool and have a grand old time as usual. Well, everything _was_ going as usual, until I decided I would actually need to get some sleep tonight and stated my intentions of getting back inside. What he told me then pretty much sent "usual" out the window.

"Don't go" he said, reaching out and grabbing hold of my wrist so abruptly that it threw me off balance, causing me to lose my footing and crash into him.

For a moment there, I didn't really comprehend what he had just said, and just stood there dumbly pressed up against him. Because despite the fact that we have spent every night together in this pool for the past week, the feeling of his skin on mine like this still manages to take my breath away. However, what was really sending my heart into a tailspin was the fact that this time he wasn't laughing at me, or making some sort of good-natured sarcastic comment, or doing any of the usual acts in our repertoire of mockery. No, this time he was just staring intensely at me, eyes wide with something I couldn't quite read and one hand still gently encasing my wrist while the other clutched at my shoulder to steady me.

"What?" I sputtered uneasily, "What do you mean, I-I have to go, we can't very well spend all night out here. I do have a plane to catch in the morning you know."

He sighed disappointedly, dropping his hands and stepping backwards to release me, moving his gaze to take in the expanse of darkness to his left. "I didn't mean the pool, Ellie"

What?

"Huh?" I said stupidly, the absence of his touch suddenly making me feel very cold and alone. I moved my hands up to rub my arms distractedly in an attempt to gain back some of the warmth his touch had had ignited in me "Craig, what are you talking about?"

"Don't leave Ellie. Don't go back to Degrassi, stay here in Vancouver with me."

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I said "usual" and "usually" a bunch in this chapter. So, as usual, reviews are lovely!


	15. Endings

I'm BACK! Geez guys, sorry the last chapter sucked, I didn't really know where I wanted to go with it except for the ending. Well, that and plus the fact that my mind was kinda on vacation. Which was amazing, by the way, though entirely too short. So yeah, I hope this chapter is less random, though I must confess my thoughts do have a tendency to slant in that direction. Ellie is a bit raw and out of character here, but then again doesn't every girl get just a little worked up over a boy at least once in her life? Especially if the boy in question happens to be Craig Manning? Oh, love does make one do crazy things... So here we go, the (grand?) finale(!) is upon us! It is here that I must offer my deepest thanks to each and every person who read and reviewed...though such thanks might be aimed more to the people who reviewed than those who just read. No offense, it's just getting reviews is positively splendid! (hint, hint) Thanks a ton you guys!

Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me.

And away we go!

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It was then that I saw it.

I mean really saw it, saw the breathtaking flash of what privileged few had been allowed to glimpse. I had thought that maybe, just maybe I had seen it once before, that day in his garage when he asked what _I_ thought about him dropping everything and taking this chance, but now I can see that I had clearly been mistaken. Here and now, with this raw emotion lain so plainly upon the table before me, I know that whatever I had been exposed to back then had still been carefully cloaked to hide what he was allowing me to see tonight.

Because here it was, the unfortified, stripped and vulnerable side of Craig Manning he kept so deeply and securely buried underneath all of his charming bravado. This was the side he had reluctantly revealed to Joey to explain the bruises, the side that he had unleashed upon Ashley when he gave her a ring and asked her to marry him, the side that he had pleaded with to Manny when she went to that clinic so many years ago. These people, plus probably his mother and Angie, had seen this side of him, and now he was letting me see it too.

Maybe it was naïve of me to feel, I don't know...honored that he was letting his guard down like this for me, but I still felt it in any case. I was spellbound in a distorted sort of way, and in the intimacy of the situation I could not manage to make my mouth shape words, or my brain formulate sentences. Even if I was a fully-functioning girl, I didn't have any idea of how to respond, it was so much more than a simple yes or no answer. Thus his words hung heavily in the air, disturbed by no sound except for maybe the violent drumming of my heart, which, by the way, was beating its way painfully out of my pale chest. He must have felt encouraged by my silence (the thumping evidentially inaudible to him), because after a few hushed moments passed between us, he started up again, his tone having gained momentum.

"It would be so awesome if you stayed here Ellie. I mean, I've already talked to my manager, and my label, and they have all kinds of hook-ups with the magazines who review us. They could probably snag you an amazing internship out here, better than any kind of journalistic experience you could get back at home. And you could still go to school here too. God man, it would be a such a great oppor-"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I couldn't believe that even...

"Stop." I interrupted, unable to keep the telltale quiver from my voice, "Just stop it Craig. Stop throwing out all these perfectly logical reasons, stop telling me about internships and schools and opportunities. Sure they make sense, and sure they sound tantalizing, but we both know that they wouldn't be what I was really staying for. That little tidbit has been in the back of your mind since the minute you decided to ask me to stay here. You know that, you know so much more than you let on, but still you go on pretending you don't and it hurts. God Craig, do you have any idea how bad that fucking hurts?"

"Ellie-" but I wouldn't let him answer. I had been waiting too long to let all this out.

"No. Just shut up, please just shut up for once and listen to me. You know that there is more behind this ridiculous little dance we have been doing, or if there isn't then at least must know that I think there is. You are perfectly aware of the fact that all those things, those "opportunities" that you already mentioned are only excuses, excuses that will have nothing to do with whether or not I make the choice to stay here. You know there is just one thing you have to say to me and I won't leave, and you haven't even hinted at it yet."

"Please Ellie. Please stay." He implored of me, ignoring my request with his eyes so open and honest that my own began to flood with unshed tears. I fought them back though, and continued.

"But why! Why the hell do you want me to stay Craig? So that we can jam together? So that you can have someone to come home to and talk with after you finish fucking half the city? So that I can be your mother and your sister and your best friend? Well that's not what I want and you fucking know it. You've known it for so long, and yet for some sadistical reason you have just kept dragging me along like a pathetic puppy dog. And everyone knows why I've let you. It's been painfully obvious for some time how I feel about you, and it's also been pretty obvious that my feelings don't mean shit to you. I can't do it anymore Craig, I really can't."

His eyes dropped from my gaze and studied the water intensely, "I'm sorry for all that I've put you through Ellie. I really and truly am."

And with that I couldn't stop them, couldn't keep the torrent of burning tears which had been prickling at my eyes for so long now back any longer, and I burst into sobs. Wrapping my arms around my practically naked body in a defensive posture, I began to shake violently as the cries wracked through me, still imploring of him for what I knew he couldn't, or wouldn't, do.

"I don't want to hear "I'm sorry" from you Craig! You told me you were sorry back at the wedding gig, and it wasn't what I wanted to hear then and it still isn't now! If you can't say what it is that I want to hear then there is no reason for me to stay, and if you don't mean it then there is no reason for you to say it!"

"Elle..." He pleaded with the water's surface rather than my actual face, my broken condition clearly too much for him to deal with.

"Well," I said, wiping in vain furiously at the waterworks still pouring in full force from my eyes and trying my best (though unsuccessfully) to steady my voice, "I guess I have my answer then, don't I? Enjoy Vancouver Craig, it's been nice visiting you."

Shoulders still heaving, I turned to leave. I turned my back the pool and turned my back on Craig Manning, once and for all. It fucking hurt like hell.

"You really know how to make a guy squirm, don't ya Nash?" he called out in an attempt that was failing miserably as a lighthearted remark meant to lessen the tense atmosphere. It sunk into me and deeply and cruelly as a knife, but somehow I kept on walking.

"Nash?"

I reached the pool steps.

"Ellie?"

I was out of the water.

"Stay for me. For us."

And this did its job to stop me. My back remained turned, but my heart pounding treacherously with a hope I dared not myself believe. He continued.

"Stay for us because I know I love you and I think you love me. Stay because I know I have been an idiot and I know that I need you here with me to keep me from being one. More than that, I just need _you_. Not as a friend, not as a mother, but as something more. Something that I have been trying for so long to tell myself I didn't want or I didn't need, but now, with all these things I know, I know I was wrong. I love you Elle, please stay."

I couldn't help it. I knew I should spin around and run to him, crying tears of happiness against his bare chest and swearing between gasping sobs to never again leave his side, but to do so would just ruin the very "Craig and Ellie-ness" of the moment. I mean, come on, Ellie Fucking Nash anyone? So instead I kept my back turned and held my tongue, made him squirm with my belated response while silent tears of a new sort continued to stream down my cheeks, until at last I cocked an eyebrow into the darkness facing away from him and said with a sneer...

"You _think_ I love you? God Manning, were you listening to a word I said?"

Marco hates flying, especially alone, but I think he understood why the seat next to him was empty that morning.

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Sorry about the abrupt ending, I'm just no good at writing love scenes. I will have to let you use your own imaginations as to what followed that night. Dream up whatever you please, just so long as it involves these two living happily ever after...


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